Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. “Great. I've come to take you back home. She entered the room in the shadows. Yet I shall think of you to-day.
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