” “What’s our lot?” asked her sister. She complained of the crowded cities, dismayed that the people were repopulating them like rabbits. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. But if I painted her as I'd like to, the natives would instantly distrust me; and I'd have to build up confidence all over again.
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