Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. “I’ll get a towel. For some time he could not stir, but felt sick and exhausted. 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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