"Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. I ought never to have thought of it. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. ” “Oh, gimme a break, Lucy.
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