‘You were his daughter. " "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. His natal burr was always in evidence when he was sentimentally affected. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. " "Keep it," said Trenchard, haughtily.
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