Her mother missed writing for a week, and then she wrote in an unusual key. . " "Mr. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. Upon this young fellow's face there were no wrinkles, only shadows, in the hollows of the cheeks and under the eyes. “Lord!” she said.
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