Good-bye, Anna!” Annabel sprang up. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. Spurlock bent his head to his knees. The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace.
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