Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. Men in this part of the world drink to forget the things they have lost.
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