" "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. ” He paused and looked at her, and said, with a sudden drop into a confidential undertone, “Or else I want to pray. Your life is like a funeral March. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things.
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