Stanley poured wine. "No, lad," said McClintock, his tone becoming kindly. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand. Now let us forget it. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face.
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