All that was needed to complete the simile was that the girl should burst into song. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt.
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