Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. She had been forced to buy herself that pair of boots and a walking-skirt, and the pearl necklace at the pawnbrokers’ had yielded very disappointingly. “You have not seen your sister lately,” he remarked.
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