“It’s not for us to supplicate any more. But, urged by his wife's cries, who was more anxious for the preservation of her child's life than her own, he snatched up the infant, and made his escape from the back of the premises. He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. Yes, yes; that was all very well in ordinary cases; but yonder was a soul in travail, if ever she had seen one. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand.
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