Mrs. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. “What a hypocrite you are. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Beautiful is the girl of twelve,—who is neither child nor woman, but something between both, something more exquisite than either! Such was the fairy creature presented to Thames Darrell, under the following circumstances.
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