The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. The mode of destruction makes no difference. Do you think I forget it? Didn't they help themselves to all the plate and the money —to several of my best dresses, and amongst others, to my favourite kincob gown; and I've never been able to get another like it! Marry, come up! I'd hang 'em all, if I could.
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