Jacques is very bad, and I am afraid he may die. Hope reared. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. "I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. I was curious about that. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living.
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