Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. “You see the pointer?” he asked.
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