"Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him. Oh! my dear, dear son, be warned in time.
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