F. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. ” Ann Veronica made no answer.
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