She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. My friend, I am only grieved that you of all others should have been so deceived. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. “Bohemianism is the least understood word ever coined. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it.
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