She must not suffer by his past imprudences.

They must be repaired at any cost--for her sake.
It was ten o'clock in the morning.

Mr.Penfold was sorting the letters for his employer, when a buxom young woman rushed into the outer office crying, "Oh, Mr.Penfold!" and sank into a chair breathless.
"Dear heart! what is the matter now ?" said the old gentleman.
"I have had a dream, sir.

I dreamed I saw Joe Wylie out on the seas, in a boat; and the wind it was a blowing and the sea a roaring to that degree as Joe looked at me, and says he, 'Pray for me, Nancy Rouse.' So I says, 'Oh, dear Joe, what is the matter?
and what ever is become of the _Proserpine ?'_ "'Gone to Hell!' says he.

Which he knows I object to foul language.
'Gone--there--' says he, 'and I am sailing in her wake.