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kettle of water on the fire and brought down her husband's razor from the highest shelf of the dresser.
Twm’s face turned very white, for the man was afraid of Death.
“There’s no chance for you, little Twm,” the doctor said. “You are a hundred times worse than the boy in the Bible who took up his old bed and walked.”
The account of how the days of the evil-favoured Twm Tybach were rounding on him was carried from mouth to mouth, and none was sorry. It was told to the Respected Josiah Bryn-Bevan in Shop Rhys. The teller of it was Bertha Daviss. This is what she said:
“Dear me! Dear me! The old calf of Twm Tybach is passing.”
“Madlen will want mourning,” said Rhys quickly. “She has not had a death for many years.”
The Respected Josiah Bryn-Bevan was
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