“I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. That's why I'm so anxious to get her to a haven. Mr. Now let us forget it. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory.
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