"But I dread the effect your departure may have upon your poor mother. Give him his medicine every half hour. “But I have forbidden it!” he said, raising his voice. ’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. “Where have you been? All these hours I have been calling for you. ” “You what?” she repeated incredulously. 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. ” “That is exactly what I feel. He's passed through some rough mental torture. Then came the great day.
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