“I suppose, Mr. “I hope nothing is wrong. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. Oh, God!” Rhea sniffed the air through two gaping nostrils that had eroded through her onion skin flesh. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. But she did not in the least want to do that.
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