Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. You would not have believed me, I know well. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. She had never seen so much food in her life as she saw at her own wedding feast. The man’s statement was explicit, and spoken with confidence.
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