Kneebone nodded. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. "My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. “We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed. "She considers her future blasted beyond hope. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil. ‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. Prudence. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. . There are certain smells, certain tinges to the air.
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