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‘She won’t. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. Once they were on the move, Kimble seemed to find strength from somewhere. But anything is better than this. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold.
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