"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. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. "I shall want nothing more. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. And I have no more the pistol.
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