human
She's ripenin' for the kingdom, was Joe Wrag's reflection, as he watched her pale face becoming thinner, and her great round eyes becoming larger and more luminous day by day.
gpt
She belongs to the elect, there ken be no doubt, an' the Lord don't intend for her little bare feet to walk the cold, dirty streets o' Liverpool much longer. I reckon she'll soon be walking the golden streets o' the shinin' city, where there's no more cold, nor hunger, nor pain. I shall be main sorry to lose her, bless her little heart, for I'm feared there's no chance of me ever seein' her agin' when she's gone. I wonder if the Lord would permit me to look at her through the bars o' the gate just for a minit if I wur to ax Him very hard? 'T will be nice, anyhow, to think o' her bein' comforted while I'm tormented. But it comes 'ard 'pon such as us as don't belong to the elect, whichever way we looks at it.