CHAPTER I. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. I don’t think I shall ever care for this bonnet again. “Do you want to ruin me? I shall walk back. ‘You have the means to take up your rightful place. ” His arms were around her. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury.
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