She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. " "Is the sloop ready to sail?" asked Wild, without noticing the skipper's remark. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. "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.
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