"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. Anthony, when God Himself had found only one man strong enough for that! McClintock shook his head violently, as if to dismiss this dream he was having. " "And, if you want an additional inducement to do so, I can tell you there's no one —not even his mother—whom he loves so well as you.
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