I had consecrated my life to His Work; and I took the primrose path. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. " "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. “There is no remedy, girls,” she began, breathlessly, “except the Vote. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin.
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