” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. "You will be wanting your broth, Hoddy," she said. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. She will cry for days and nights together.
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