CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. “What happened then?” Michelle asked fearfully. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. Smith's melody had subsided.
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