And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. ‘You said it. She is the image of what I was like, and she has a better voice. “You are one of the Hampshire Pellissiers, I know, and your family are quite as good as ours. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house.
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