She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. ‘Aye, that she was. You haven’t an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with. 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. "There, Sir," she added, unlocking the door, "you can go in.
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