” Anna shivered a little. That’s— that’s my private life. You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair. As the woollendraper's back was towards him, he did not perceive him, but continued his passionate addresses. " "Never mind it, my dear Mrs. ” He strode away and vanished in the gathering fog. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls.
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