The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. How came you to know it? Have you heard the name before?" "I think I have—long, long ago, when I was a child," replied Mrs. It was the grand nursery of vice.
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