linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved. She answered weakly, “I’m fine, John. Take it, if I die. 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. Unfortunately, I have little detail of the circumstances which surrounded the birth of the girl, and her subsequent removal to France. I’ve—dreads.
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