“Yes. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. He was mad. His father spoke for him. Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. Then he remembered that she was Anna’s sister.
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