Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. "Devil!" cried the widow, catching his arm, and gazing with frantic eagerness in his face, "how many years will you give my son before you execute your terrible threat?" "NINE!" answered Jonathan sternly. Since she was only seventeen when she had them, she didn’t deal with it very well. “I don’t know. But while there's life there's hope. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness.
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