The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. The light disappeared. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. I have squeezed three kids into it afore now. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look as long as I live. Immediately behind this individual, came a pale, poverty-stricken woman, whose forlorn aspect contrasted strongly with his plump and comfortable physiognomy. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces.
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