She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. "But I like Bobby Burns best. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. No, don’t interrupt me. This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude.
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