" "Only two minutes more, Sir," intreated Edgeworth Bess, advancing towards him in such a manner as to screen Jack, who crept into the farthest part of the angle,—"only two minutes, and we've done. You were content, and I came to thrive on your happiness. It was nothing like the big church wedding she wanted, but nothing could shame her greater than to have a child out of wedlock. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams.
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