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But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. "You mistake,—you are mine. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony.
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