Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. Wood, ironically; "but I used to think it required something more than mere words to prove that a person's character was abused. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. “Please don’t,” she said.
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