” “Is my sister’s Christian name, then, of so much importance to you?” she asked with a faint smile. “Anna! What tragedy has happened, little sister? No lights, no supper, no coffee —and, above all, no Mr. But still she knew they were not right, and at times they became a horrible obsession as of something waiting for her round the corner. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour.
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