“It was poison—why not?” she answered. "I am quite easy now; receive my blessing, my dear son; and if we never meet again, rest assured my last prayer shall be for you. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. "You may die afterwards as soon as you please," retorted Jonathan; "but live till then you shall. “I wonder if there is anything wrong with my manners,” she said. .
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