’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. He lowered her neck before her, and she noticed a bizarre urge to bite him rising from her mind like an itch. ’ He sat up. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. Howsomdever, if you should reach t'other side, take an old feller's advice, and don't be foolhardy enough to venter back again.
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