Spurlock stepped into the room. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. "Let us hope that, like her who 'loved much,' her sins are forgiven her. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud.
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