“You let him touch you!” John whispered back. McClintock will have some. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. She reloaded. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance.
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