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‘Anyhow, never mind that now. ” “Yes, shit. “You will go and see her,” he begged. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. “How will you live?” she appealed. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober. ” He looked at her with white, set face. "Give them what you please.
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