"You mean, it doesn't matter?" "Poor Hoddy! When you were ill in Canton, out of your head, you babbled words. ‘You make a game with me, I think. Or appeared to do so. Well, you shall know. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. The policemen were closing in from the sides to intervene.
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