“It—it—must come,” she faltered. " "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. Figg! In a few minutes, all will be over. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. Mr. ’ ‘Excellent,’ Gerald had approved. She was wan and white.
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