” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. ” He stared at her, trying to guess at the mystery of her thoughts. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. The crash was tremendous. She stepped into his arms. " "How do you spell the last name?" He spelt it. “Too much sensibility and too cold a heart. .
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