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. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. “I wonder if there are any good women really. It gave her great satisfaction to hear that Madame Chamberlain had spent a night in the county jail, even if the nocturnal activities picked right up again after two weeks. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed.
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