human
He never _did_ look healthy, said Dora, when the meal was ended,
gpt
Perhaps he'll get over them,
human
My dear, people with epilepsy never recover, rebuked Dora seriously,
gpt
Are you sure that it was a fit?
human
My dear, am I sure that the hair grows on my head? Of course, I am sure. The man himself explained how he fell, just as he clutched at the bell. He hit his poor head against the iron fender--you know, dear, one of those old-fashioned kitchen fenders, now out of date. It's a mercy there was no fire in the grate, or he would have been burnt to death. Why, a cousin of mine once