“In a sort of beautiful garden-close—wearing lovely dresses and picking beautiful flowers?” “Ah! If one could!” “While those other girls trudge to business and those other women let lodgings. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head. “Let’s go. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features.
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