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Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion. ’ He shifted unguardedly, and hissed a breath, wincing. 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. 8. “I don’t know. “I suppose I shall have to write an answer. ” Anna smiled very faintly. "If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. The tall, blond boys, right?” “That’s them. Well, what about it?" "I accept.
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