"Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. . His hand flew across the paper. The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame.
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