Looking at this girl, a sense of failure swept over him. The few whites he had ever known generally offered to pet him when they really wanted to kick him. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. "Take off the ruffles, Blueskin," rejoined Wild. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. "You've but a sorry lodging, Mrs.
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