“Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. ’ ‘But it was not your fault,’ protested Gosse, shocked. “Can you give me any information as to this affair?” he asked. Let us part in peace. Impressionable, lonely, a deal beyond his analytical reach, the girl might let her sympathies go beyond those of the nurse.
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