She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. How I could have been such a fool I’ll never know. "Concerning whom?" "Mrs. 'Mrs. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. ‘Your niece, ma’am. Told you how it would be.
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