"Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. As to Mr. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird.
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