Adieu!" And, snatching a hasty kiss, he darted after Jack. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. “Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish. But he knew. ‘Yes, that is what the nuns they said of me. She hated living like that. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so.
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