She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. “Well,” she achieved at last. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. Spare me yet a little while, Father! not for my own sake, but for the sake of this poor babe.
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