Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society. "I know my life is valuable to you, or you would not spare it. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell.
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