"Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. But I’m going to-day. ’ His face changed, all the humour and tenderness leaving it in an instant. But I have never seen America. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition.
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