But—” The tired woman raised her eyebrows in mild protest. Bitte!. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. But he can't have his eyes always about him, or he'd have been with us this morning at the Mint, eh, Mr. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page.
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