"It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. . Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet.
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