human
It is my own house--my own house! a man, writhing in a porch close to where she was, gasped to another who parleyed with him from a door open about half a foot.
gpt
Oh, my son! my son! let me die here on my own doorstep, if I may not enter.
human
My father, it cannot be. Not because I am cruel to you, but because I must be kind to others still unstruck. Your wife and mine, also myself and my babes, are still free from the fever. Would you slay all, yet with no avail to yourself? My father, think of us,