Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. The lady murmured briefly to her husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. " "The Dawn Pearl! Odd, but we white folks aren't half so poetical as the yellow or the black.
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