‘I told you I could handle her. Never had she seemed to him so much like Anna. Makes one want to go back to the Oriental system!” Mr. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. But while there's life there's hope. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years.
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