He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. She had gained respect all about town with news of her fine marriage, and her reputation as a beauty was expanding.
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