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. “It’s a flabby, loose-willed world we have to face. I did what I could to comfort her but she died in terrible pain. There stepped forth a tall brown man. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley.
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