On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. 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. “Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed. The parlour was cluttered but cosy.
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