"Did you ever see the like of her?" "No," answered McClintock, gravely. Mr. ‘That’s right. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. ” She looked down on him thoughtfully, and he let his admiration of her free young poise show in his face. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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