"You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. ‘Mademoiselle. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. " "And leave you thus?" rejoined Jack. And the change, the change of attitude! The way all the old clingingness has been thrown aside is amazing. Your adoptive father understands mankind better. Annabel! Annabel!” His voice became a shriek.
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