Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, "that'll warm the cockles of your heart. "Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. She felt her forehead repeatedly break out in a light sweat. The bridge was open.
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