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. ’ Quick anger flared, surpassing the fluttering hope. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. ” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead.
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