See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. He did not even reply to her for several minutes. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. His smile faded. ” Ann Veronica did.
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