” He passed his hand wearily over his forehead. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. CHAPTER VI. The future was not so black. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious.
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