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. She was faint from hunger, her head spinning into dizziness, the blood madness readying for battle. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps for help.
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