It was his heart. "Come," said Wild, turning authoritatively to Jack,—"you have overstayed your time. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. What do you know about her, Fred? I am interested.
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