“You’re still,” he said, “in the educational years. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. "A little, Sir," replied the executioner, with a grim smile.
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