Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. You'll find the benefit of it by and by. All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed. Her body rose up to meet his in a cat-like stretch and she smiled. She could not say who, not yet. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand.
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