From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. “Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H.
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