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” “By God!” said Manning, making the most of the word, “I suppose it’s fate. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. You could return to civilization and have a good time all the rest of your days. He told her something about music, the great world outside. You have never felt the hearts of all hardened against you; have never heard the jeer or curse from every lip; nor endured the insult and the blow from every hand.
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