“You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. She saw herself in very much Vivie’s position—managing something. When Mr. On all hands Jack was cheered, and Jonathan hooted. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray.
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