"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. "Owen, Owen," pursued Mrs. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. " "You need never be afraid of that," returned Winifred, affectionately; "my father will take care you never leave him more. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. “Thank you—and good-bye. ” “Very sad—very sad indeed,” he remarked uneasily.
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