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CHAPTER 7
onscious t as so grasp he surprise checked her sobs.

    `I feel ill - faintishe head.

    er, and tottered into  purple fluso paleness, and his hand was cold.

    ` ter send for tor? said Mrs tulliver.

    o be too faint and suffering to  presently, o fetcor,  or? No - No doctor. Its my s all. o bed.

    Sad ending to t ter times! But mingled seed must bear a mingled crop.

    In er om came o congratulate `ter, not  some excusable pride t  Mr toms good-luck; and tom  ter as a finiso talk  noom could only spend tation of t consequences t must follobreak of e. After told, tom sat in silence:  spirit or inclination to tell er anyt to ask it. Apparently ted toget t a sorro. tom ed by t t  must al in co come. Not one of t any particular alarm about Mr tullivers oms did not recall tack, and it seemed only a necessary consequence t  passion and effort of strengter many ement, s would probably cure him.

    tom, tired out by ive day, fell asleep soon, and slept soundly; it seemed to  come to bed, wo see anding by  of early morning.

    `My boy, you must get up te: Ive sent for tor, and your fats you and Maggie to come to him.

    `Is her?

    `   say its ;Bessy, fetcell em to make e.quot;

    Maggie and tom tily in t, and reac at t. c ulliver stood at t of tened and trembling, looking urbed rest. Maggie  , but oom,  to her.

    `tom, my lad, its come upon me, as I s get up again... too many for me, my lad, but youve done o make t even. Shake hands
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