"I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. Gay, I've been in many odd quarters of our city—have visited haunts frequented only by thieves—the Old Mint, the New Mint, the worst part of St. McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone.
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