"Medicine cannot save mo now. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. "If that sickly brat lives to be a man," continued Jonathan, rising, "I'll hang him upon the same tree as his father. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky.
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