Part,  Chapter

1     I,       V|     on his breast, she wept bitterly.~ ~I took my journal, and,
2    II,    XIII| shrapnel splinter," I said, bitterly, "not worth plastering."
3    II,    XVII|    a fault for which I have bitterly atoned. Now, pray, let me
4    II,    XVII|    around my knees and wept bitterly.~ ~"No," said she, "do not
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