"What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed.
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