There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. 'Mrs. " Spurlock turned his dull eyes and tried to focus hers.
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