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Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. They had not to tarry long. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. So dreadful were these shouts as to produce an effect upon the hardened feelings of Jonathan, who shrank out of sight. I shall not let you go till I am quite sure. But we smirk a little, I’m afraid, habitually when we talk to you.
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