“I wonder how it is,” she exclaimed, “that my friends have so much more confidence in me than I have in myself. One cannot trust any man at all. But with the skill of a fencer he met the blow and broke it, seizing the wrist. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. There is no Heaven for your mother.
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