" Blueskin nodded, and left the room. Hastily ascending these steps, Jack found the door, as he anticipated, locked. "Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. F. Wait a moment. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. He spoke only when he saw the sing-song girl he wanted to buy. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face.
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