‘That is better, no?’ ‘Dieu. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. 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. I am almost old enough to be your father. " "This comes of fine feelings!" muttered Jonathan, contemptuously. ’ ‘I’m afraid you are right.
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