The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. "I am utterly lost. She always dawdled, so it was easy. The hard work will be his, until we yank this young fellow back from the brink. There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it. Men ought not to idealize any woman. When I absorb a fact, my brain weighs the fact carefully and stores it away. He had said so. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. When I gave him an invitation to supper, I little thought he'd accept it.
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