A FOG IN SANTONE
once now; let me kneel for just-one moment. at her feet, and—”
“Tut, tut,” said the priest. “How many acts of a love drama do you think an old bookworm like me capable of witnessing? Besides, what kind of figures do we cut, spying upon the mysteries of midnight millinery! Go to meet your wife to-morrow, as she ordered you; and obey her thereafter; and maybe, sometimes I shall get forgiveness for the part I have played in this night’s work. Off wid yez down the shtairs, now! ’T is late, and an ould man like me should be takin’ his rist.”
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