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The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. ‘But I was not there. I did not know you spoke Kanaka," he broke off. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. "Does your father doubt it? Speak! tell me!" Winifred made no answer.
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