She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. She’s already spoken for. I wouldn't touch the stuff for all the pearls in India. So many distresses— so many joys coming at the same time are too much for me. “Perhaps, as I’ve only just arrived,” she remarked, “I might be forgiven if I do not change my skirt. I don’t believe in the faults. No one will ever love you as I love you now. Did you know you’re very maternal? Damn, you’re more maternal than my Mom.
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