She looked in the rear-view mirror. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him.
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