Excerpt from Daughter of Strangers
The tall, very blond young man leaned his sunburned face wearily against the ornately carved post of the huge mahogany bed. There was a mouse in the armoire by the fireplace, and the scritch-scratch of its gnawing sounded loud and ugly. The room was dimly lit by a candle on the table by the bed, and he could barely see the figure, face bound with a death cloth, lying under the pink silk coverlet.
How dark she looks. The young man, whose name was Auguste Le ‘jeune, spoke without thinking, and’the large Negress, watching him closely from the other side of the bed, nodded.
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