The preacher's knife had probed deeply into his disclosed conscience and he felt now that his soul was festering in sin. They embraced without joy or passion, his arm about his sister's neck. I had left her meanwhile in little doubt of my small hope of representing with success even to her actual sympathy my sense of the real splendor of the little inspiration with which, after I had got him into the house, the boy met my final articulate challenge. There were days when I could have sworn that one of them had, with a small invisible nudge, said to the other: "She thinks she'll do it this time--but she WON'T!" To "do it" would have been to indulge for instance--and for once in a way-- in some direct reference to the lady who had prepared them for my discipline.
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