" "Perhaps he is from Lord Derwentwater, or Mr. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. . “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. Darrell's eyes were of that clear gray which it is difficult to distinguish from blue by day and black at night; and his rich brown hair, which he could not consent to part with, even on the promise of a new and modish peruke from his adoptive father, fell in thick glossy ringlets upon his shoulders; whereas Jack's close black crop imparted the peculiar bullet-shape we have noticed, to his head. “Yes. You ought to have had better advice two years ago. “He spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly.
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