” “Then perhaps,” she answered, with a new coldness in her tone, “perhaps I really do not care. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. She kept her eyes closed. Just an idea of mine. His eyes were closed. She had been to San Francisco, and what I learned about the world was from her. There was one verse that haunted and mocked 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.
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