Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. "To shoot you would be to lose the reward. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. I had no idea you were not the happiest girl. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less.
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