CHAPTER XV. Before the first month was gone, McClintock admitted that the boy was a find. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. It was not only that her father had said all sorts of inconsistent and unreasonable things, but that by some incomprehensible infection she herself had replied in the same vein. The Widow and her Child II. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise.
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