From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. “You see you do not know how much of truth there is in his story. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths. " "Here you have it, my dear," returned the hawker. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes.
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