Murder had become nothing to her. " "Give them to me," replied Jack. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. She let out a wail. With a little sigh of happiness she accepted this new thing. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind. While the girl kept the patient from dwelling upon his misfortunes, whatever these were, he himself would have to keep the girl from brooding over hers.
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