I know my son's voice too well. I was once a disciple of Saint Peter myself, and speak from experience. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. The doctor's lessons, perhaps delivered with too much serious emphasis, had destroyed that buoyant confidence in her ability to take care of herself.
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