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Becky was on her deathbed, with her husband Jake at her side. He held
her cold hand and tears silently streamed down his face. Her pale lips
moved. "Jake," she said. "Hush," he quickly inter- rupted, "don't
talk." But she insisted. "Jake," she said in her tired voice. "I have
to talk. I must confess." "There is nothing to confess," said the
weeping Jake. "It's all right. Everything's all right." "No, no. I
must die in peace. I must confess, Jake, that I have been unfaithful
to you." Jake stroked her hand. "Now Becky, don't be concerned. I
know all about it," he sobbed. "Why else would I poison you?"

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