Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. ’ Gerald capitulated.
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