Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. She withdrew her mouth and patted his penis dry with the bottom of his shirttails.
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