. . “I am giving my understudy a chance. Mere hangers on. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked. “Wise! Kind! What mockery words are! I came because I had to. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven.
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