‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. It was. “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. ‘If you did not want me to talk of it,’ she told him with characteristic insouciance, ‘you should not have mentioned the matter to me.
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