“I find it very hard to write this letter. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. But they found him on the veranda when they returned from McClintock's that evening. CHAPTER XVI. "Heaven help us!" he exclaimed; "we were mad to neglect the old sailor's advice. "I'm not worth it. “I suppose, Vee, you don’t see much of those Widgetts now?” “I go in and talk to Constance sometimes.
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