’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. His voice now had lost its ironies. " With these words, he tore the mantle from Wood's back, and, perceiving the child, endeavoured to seize it. . “Which one?” “The one whose life you have been making a burden, who has been all the time shielding her sister. " "The Dawn Pearl! Odd, but we white folks aren't half so poetical as the yellow or the black.
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