She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. One who—who—tres. Of course there were goats. Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. "If I had my old tools with me, we'd soon master this obstacle," he muttered. "Come, let's be off. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so.
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