During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed. "Not in the least," returned Kneebone, slyly, "not in the least. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. ” “I suppose I must have thought so. " "Impracticable dolt!" exclaimed Jonathan, furiously.
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