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546 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1867
”[s]he had no reliance on her own power of living on a potato, and with one new dress every year.”
”’Look down there, Count Pateroff – down to the edge. If my misery is too great to be borne, I can escape from it there on better terms than you propose to me.’
‘Ah! That is what we call poetry. Poetry is very pretty, and in saying this as you do, you make yourself divine. But to be dashed over the cliffs and broken on the rocks – in prose is not so well.’”