“Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence. ’ ‘But you are bleeding like a pig,’ came the frantic response. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. “I do hope you will be able to do this, because I value men friends. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she.
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