Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. Suppose he stopped all her allowance, made it imperative that she should either stay ineffectually resentful at home or earn a living for herself at once. “Dear friend,” she said, “do you not think that you are breaking an unspoken compact? I am very sorry.
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