And then her pace slackened. Blueskin, who had evaded me with the papers and the money, is a prisoner here, and will perish on the same gallows as yourself. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. That’s all about it.
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