“Your friend, “DAVID COURTLAW. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. Twenty-one, twenty-two. . Take it," he cried, lifting the babe from the bottom of the boat, and flinging it towards its unfortunate father. Oh God! my limbs fail me. "To-morrow it will be mine. We have that gift.
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