. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. 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 not believe you. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. Annabel, come to the door with me,” she added a little abruptly.
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