"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. She understood. Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. " "Is she alive?" repeated the widow. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. ” “It isn’t exactly that,” Anna answered, “but to tell you the truth, I cannot bear to look upon myself as a rank failure.
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