"My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. ’ ‘Pottiswick, you mean, miss?’ ‘Yes, yes. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. S. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture.
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