Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. “Yeah. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. ” Michelle said, tossing her glossy ponytail defiantly. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient.
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