See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. He wondered if these abnormal mental activities presaged illness. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. ‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully. All the turnkeys were assembled.
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