"I'm your dupe no longer. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. A cold shiver came over her. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. . “You MUST,” he said, “because of my depression. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. ’ ‘That depends, that does,’ said Trodger guardedly. “Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones.
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