‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. I don’t know that I understand altogether. She could not hide her face. How fortunate that she recognises the resemblance. No man knew whence she had come nor why. But he reckoned without his host. ‘That is my mother. To that, perhaps, a large part of its satisfyingness was due.
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