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See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. Now, Sir. “Wow. I should like to have had you forgive me. " "So do I!" she cried; "for then you would have been really my brother. As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude.
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