" "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. "Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. " "Have it, and welcome," rejoined Figg. She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch.
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