Fairbanks, AK, 99712. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Before the Monroes I was placed with a single woman, Leslie Cavendish.
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