“You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. “Thought so. ” “But Hainault—was—a pal. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. . It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. “Well,” she said.
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