Her father had smiles ready for her, he seemed to be truly happy with her for the first time since her infancy. It was intolerable to think that he might overhear words and phrases. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair.
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