" Quarter of an hour later O'Higgins stepped off the gangplank. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields. I love you. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. ‘Grace à dieu, he breathes still. Wood, despair will come over me; and, dear as this babe is to me, far dearer than my own wretched life, which I would lay down for him any minute, I have prayed to Heaven to remove him, rather than he should grow up to be a man, and be exposed to his father's temptations—rather than he should live as wickedly and die as disgracefully as his father. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself.
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