But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. The theme was a masquerade. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. “I think you are getting to understand me better. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire.
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