I can't spare you at present. ” Mr. Do you understand?” “I do not,” he answered. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. More importantly, she had her wits. "Why, this is your writing Dolly, and addressed to Mr. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. She leaves town to-morrow. .
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