She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. We must take the children—of any race—if we would teach knowledge. And yet—you millionaires should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. In the hall below she could hear his firm voice giving quick commands to the servants. "All I want is to be happy!" she said aloud, as if she were asking for something of such ordinary value that God would readily accord it to her because there was so little demand for the commodity. "And you have seen … drunken men?" Prudence's tones were full of suppressed horror.
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