I wanted the magic of love. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. His number was unlisted and unpublished.
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