“Well?” she said, sitting down again. Oddly, he was seldom angry with her as Gianfrancesco would have been. This fruit was McClintock's particular pride. . " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. ” He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever. I know he is dead. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. “You, too,” he said abruptly. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn.
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