Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. “Girl friends. “He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive.
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