Always as black and bitter as gall. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. Further on, there was a small chandler's shop, where Jack observed an old woman seated at the counter, attended by a little girl. "You're a bold fellow, Jack," rejoined the blacksmith.
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