She advanced, stabbing at him. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. Her eyes where glassy and shining. The metrical irregularity is intentional, because I want, as it were, to put you apart: to change the lilt and the mood altogether when I speak of you. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. “I can say no more. "My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess.
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