"Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. Cast off this weakness. Dizziness overcame him like anesthetic and he slept. He remained talking with her however. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin.
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