"I suppose he'll be on his feet any day now. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. Young noblemen ought to be indulged in their frolics. “It was perhaps my fault. I do not intend to be married, or to become engaged just at present. She chose to hold her nose. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end.
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