" "I don't know," said McClintock. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me. " "Oh! how much I owe him!" said the widow, with fervour, "for bringing me here, and removing me from those dreadful sights and sounds, that would have driven me distracted, even if I had been in my right mind. “But perhaps I want to confess them. It is positively hateful to think of it. . ” She said, studying his face, which seemed to lose its childishness a little more with each day.
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