This is a tale of two young fools. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. And then you go—and half throttle me. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. In all other respects they differed as materially. " "Irons—heavy irons—night and day. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. . .
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