These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. Capes, do you think. It was the grand nursery of vice. But, whether she likes it or not, I aim to be on hand to get her out of it. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. The storm burst upon them in its fury.
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