Bird,—who was rushing up stairs, alarmed by Mr. ‘Up, Jacques, up,’ she ordered. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. Lucy grabbed its handle, her broken bones mending inside her causing her to wince in pain. “We are clerks in the same bank. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. Think better of it. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse.
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