Only promise me to amend—to quit your vile companions—and I will forgive you—will bless you. Drink the toast, Jack. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Cathy Beck was terribly upset and was on the verge of exploding. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it.
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