ten
years,”
said St.
Clare;
“but I
haven’t,
some how,
got clear.
Have you
got clear
of all
your sins,
cousin?”
“Cousin
Augustine,”
said Miss
Ophelia,
seriously,
and laying
down her
knitting-work,
“I suppose
I deserve
that you
should
reprove my
short-comings.
I know all
you say is
true
enough;
nobody
else feels
them more
than I do;
but it
does seem
to me,
after all,
there is
some
difference
between me
and you.
It seems
to me I
would cut
off my
right hand
sooner
