He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. " "How so?" inquired Winifred. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. " "Would he had done so!" cried Jack. He wondered if, after all, McClintock wasn't nearest the truth, that Ruth was one of those unfortunate yet innocent women who make havoc with the hearts of men. But I don't look for peace on this side the grave. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. The Old Mint. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough.
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