" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. On the stranger's appearance, she was seated near the window busily occupied with her needle. ‘Wait a minute, though.
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