The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands. “I’ll never be happy again! I hate you! But most of all, what you have made me! A flesh-eating demon cannibal, just like you! I should be dead, dead and lying at the bottom of the sea. "Try fifty pounds more," said Jonathan. But perhaps if people didn’t like clear, bright, healthy eyes—which is biologically understandable—they couldn’t like precious stones.
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