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"What de doctor say?" asked Dido, in a low-voiced whisper. "More's the pity," sighed Jen, leaning upon the shoulder of Sarby; "but you cherish no anger in your heart now?" "That is no matter," replied her mother, coldly. "You must marry him.".
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Conrad
Her languid Creole nature and lethargic habits were unsuited to brisk, practical England, and she hated the gray skies, the frequent absence of sunlight and the lack of rich and sensuous coloring. Often she threatened to return to Barbadoes, but she was too lazy to make the effort of again settling herself in life. With all her longings for the fairy islands of the West, it seemed as though she would end her days in gray and misty England. But she was out of place in this northern land, and so was Dido. Dido's fierce black eyes flashed out a gleam of rage, and she cursed Maurice audibly in some barbaric tongue which Isabella seemed to understand. At all events she interrupted the woman's speech with an imperious gesture. "A carriage?" "To tell me more lies?".
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