She changed her mind that day, as her mother Marina had predicted. He glanced at his watch. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. But a human being who is young and clean, as you are, is apt to ennoble—or explain away. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. He took some Oreos from the bottomless supply that stocked the cookie jar.
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