"You, Ryan?" says Mona, with an attempt at unconcern, but her tone is absolutely frozen with fear.
dear-lottery-weekly-chart, "Well; there isn't much, is there?" says Mona, pleasantly.
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dear-lottery-weekly-chart "My dear, what I could do, I have done," says the little man, patting her hand in his kind fatherly fashion; "but he has gone beyond human skill. And now one thing: you have come here, I know, with the tender thought of soothing his last hours: therefore I entreat you to be calm and very quiet. Emotion will only distress him, and, if you feel too nervous, you know—perhaps—eh?".
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