Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. Apparently I’m not to exist yet. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. The investigators should have thought to check inside the garbage can. "My child!" he groaned faintly. "Well, who'd have thought of finding it in this unexpected way!" "Don't be too sure till you see it," said the widow.
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