“My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued. I. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired. ” She watched his face as he traced his way through these speculative thickets. ‘Do not tell me he has escaped. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed.
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