“There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said. " "The Dawn Pearl! Odd, but we white folks aren't half so poetical as the yellow or the black. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. There was little fighting spirit here.
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