" On leaving Mr. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. " "O Heavens!" screamed Winifred, while her father lifted up his hands in silent horror. \" \"Not this Saturday, sweetie. ” He was silent for a moment or two. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. Wood, despair will come over me; and, dear as this babe is to me, far dearer than my own wretched life, which I would lay down for him any minute, I have prayed to Heaven to remove him, rather than he should grow up to be a man, and be exposed to his father's temptations—rather than he should live as wickedly and die as disgracefully as his father. Had this not been the case, he must have refused even to see his Frenchified granddaughter. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish.
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