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God forgive you!" "May He, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. "It's not very likely that a babby of nine months old will save my life, if I'm to be his friend, as you seem to say, Mrs. How came you to know it? Have you heard the name before?" "I think I have—long, long ago, when I was a child," replied Mrs. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression.
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