Taber is very ill. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. She held it by the neck and broke the end of the bottle on the hard dirt. “I remember when you walked me home. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. "Put it under my pillow," he said. And I affirm to you, on my own conviction, that she who falls, because she has not strength granted her to struggle with affliction, may be reclaimed,—may repent, and be forgiven,—even as she, whose sins, 'though many, were forgiven her'. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy.
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