’ ‘Oh,’ Gerald uttered, disappointed. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. Then we find out. She snatched about in her mind. Lucy slipped upstairs silently. 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.
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