That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. He stood away from her. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. Pitt?" "Certainly, Sir James, certainly," replied the governor. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off.
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