Buck up. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. "But I dread the effect your departure may have upon your poor mother. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. “Delicious!” she murmured. "You have said," pursued the widow, "that she, who has once erred, is irreclaimable.
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