Can you forgive her?

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Gebbie, 1900
 

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Page 140 - She had done very wrong. She knew that she had done wrong. . . . She understood it now, and knew that she could not forgive herself. But can you forgive her, delicate reader? Or am I asking the question too early in my story? [We are on page 384 of an 800-page novel.] For myself, I have forgiven her. . . . And you also must forgive her before we close the book, or...
Page 246 - Dishonesty, ignorance, and vulgarity do not close the gate of that heaven against aspirants; and it is a consolation to the ambition of the poor to know that the ambition of the rich can attain that glory by the strength of its riches alone. But though England does not send thither none but her best men, the best of her Commoners do find their way there. It is the highest and most legitimate pride of an Englishman to have the letters MP written after his name.
Page 181 - Jeannette waited at table nimbly, and the thing could not have been done better. Mrs. Greenow's appetite was not injured by her grief, and she so far repressed for the time all remembrance of her sorrow as to enable her to play the kind hostess to perfection. Under her immediate eye Cheesacre was forced into apparent cordiality with his friend Bellfield, and the captain himself took the good things which the gods provided with thankful good humour.
Page 35 - Every man to himself is the centre of the whole world;—the axle on which it all turns. All knowledge is but his own perception of the things around him. All love, and care for others, and solicitude for the world's welfare, are but his own feelings as to the world's wants and the world's merits.
Page 246 - Cheapside counter, hast thou never stood there and longed, - hast thou never confessed, when standing there, that Fate has been unkind to thee in denying thee the one thing that thou hast wanted? I have done so; and as my slow steps have led me up that more than royal staircase, to those passages and halls...
Page 218 - ... any rate, all the romance of the picture she might have enjoyed had they allowed her to dispose as she had wished of her own hand. She might have sat in marble balconies, while the vines clustered over her head, and he would have been at her knee, hardly speaking to her, but making his presence felt by the halo of its divinity. He would have called upon her for no hard replies.
Page 140 - ... longing. She had thrown off from her that wondrous aroma of precious delicacy, which is the greatest treasure of womanhood. She had sinned against her sex; and, in an agony of despair, as she crouched down upon the floor with her head against her chair, she told herself that there was no pardon for her. She understood it now, and knew that she could not forgive herself. But can you forgive her, delicate reader? Or am I asking the question too early in my story? For myself, I have forgiven her.

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