In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. I am yours for the making over. ” Anna stepped to the foot of the bed. 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. ‘Very well, never mind. ” Her first upward glance was one of terrified apprehension.
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