"Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. She tried to think how people get work. And you don’t know what led to our separation. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. It was hot and dry.
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