She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. He squatted and threw his arm around the backs of her knees. All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. ” A shade of concern darkened Carol Diedermayer’s face. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone.
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