"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. 176 “No, it’s very good. My poor son despairs of me, for I have primed every member of the family to bring me the latest novels whenever they choose to visit. The horse-soldiers wheeled round and cleared a path: the foot closed in upon the cart. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. .
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