"Yon's a dear man," said McClintock. Entering the workshop, he found the blacksmith occupied in heating the tire of a cart wheel. “I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled.
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