It’s my choice, Lucy. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. “Of course I will,” he answered. Marry, come up! I've been a great deal too charitable. Do you know that this becomes a habit?” “If you would only teach us all,” he murmured, “how to acquire it. You speak as one injured—as though I had been the one to take your name—as though you had been the one to make sacrifices.
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