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It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. His arms were naturally big and his chest was covered with a smattering of soft hairs. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. Wood, at the top of her voice. Come and help me pack.
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