Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. From this perturbed state he was roused by thoughts of his mother, and fancying he heard her gentle voice urging him on to fresh exertion, he started up. "You are my prisoner, Jack. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. You've caught the colour and the life.
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