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“You have killed me. "What of her?" cried the knight. “How I am to earn enough sous for my dinner to-morrow—or failing that, what I can sell. 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 glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient.
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