A Love Story Reversed
The golden hands of the parlor clock point glimmeringly to an hourafter midnight, and the house is still. The gas is turned almost out,but the flickering of the dying sea-coal fire in the grate fitfullyillumines the forms and faces of two young women, who are seated beforeit, talking earnestly in low tones. It is apparent from their costumesthat they have been spending the evening out.
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