"Never throw away a chance," thought Jonathan. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. With his black and gray hair, his gray-green eyes were a striking contrast and he looked even younger, as if he had been frozen at age thirty-three. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. Suppose our proper place is a shrine.
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