"Your faults were the faults of circumstances. . When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. ‘Didn’t mean to say that. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. “There’s endless reasons, no doubt, why we shouldn’t,” he said.
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