She lived, he noted, very carelessly. "Two hundred pounds!" exclaimed Ireton, "besides the governor's offer—that's three hundred. 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. Don't be frightened of her. He smothered it down with such a good will that the reaction set his heart to pounding. I was compelled to run away. No, don’t let me call myself that.
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