The skies became brilliant; the dry monsoon was setting in. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. “Good-bye, Miss Pellissier, and success to you,” he said. “I made two fruit pies and now I have no one to eat them.
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