When the old man has gone, Mona goes quietly up to her lover, and, laying her hand upon his arm,—a hand that seems by some miraculous means to have grown whiter of late,—says, gratefully,—,
"Because 'the miserable hath no other medicine but only hope,'" quotes she, very sadly.,
"But in that apron, miss, and wid yer arms bare-like, an' widout yer purty blue bow; law, Miss Mona, have sinse, an' don't ye now.".
This app may share these data types with third
parties
Device or other IDs
This app may collect these data types
Location, Personal info and
9 others
Data is encrypted in transit
You can request that data be deleted