“I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister. "I thought it best that you should imagine him. “Eight pounds,” she plunged, and added foolishly, “fifteen pounds will see me clear of everything. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. She wrapped a leg around him. The weed was all right. Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop.
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