Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. “Is Miss Stanley coming up with us?” “I go second,” she said, “and change at Wimbledon. Mother! do you know what you do? Would you sell yourself to this fiend?" "I would sell myself, body and soul, to save you," rejoined his mother, bursting from his grasp. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow.
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