Her anger died and she eyed him. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. But after all, Mrs. This child at once alarmed and thrilled them. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away.
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