Sadly, the Christmas break came to an end. “Please don’t be sad. Ants. How was I to know what would happen? He always said if he couldn’t get you a dowry, you could take the veil. "And, now I'll tell you what they do. 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. “I can only repeat what I said before,” she declared. “Why not? Isn’t the whole thing a lie? Isn’t her reputation, this husband of hers, the ‘Alcide’ business, isn’t it all a cursed juggle? She hasn’t the right to do it.
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