I'll try the effect of a jolly stave. “They’d better not,” said Hetty. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow.
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