Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. . ’ ‘That’s better. ” She dropped back into a crouching attitude and began to weep.
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