Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. She rolled to one side. You'll find her at Black Mary's Hole. Here, Caliban, attend to the door, and keep the wicket locked till I return.
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