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" "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. \"No, not really. He must know she’ll be at a convent. ” “I think,” Anna said, “that it was only his manner. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. This done, she waited at the side of the bed; but he gave no sign that he was conscious of her nearness. ” She came closer. You won't have him long. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces.
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