The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. That was what she was trying to make him understand. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. . He comforted himself, however, with the certainty which he felt of capturing his prey on the Sunday. "Why, this is your writing Dolly, and addressed to Mr.
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