“Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. It’s just upon my lunch-time. You'll find those young ladies extremely agreeable acquaintances. " "You don't remember your mother?" "Oh, no; she died when I was very little. ‘Aye, that she was.
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