Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. I am already too much flattered that you should have given me your confidence. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. It was the girl. Later, at the bottom of that envelope I found a letter. In lieu of it, he still adhered to the sleek black crop, which, throughout life, formed a distinguishing feature in his appearance. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER.
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