" "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. So there is no escape. “It means that I have had enough of this slavery,” she declared. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. ‘Hates doing the pretty. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature.
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