Mr. ’ ‘Well, I am glad he did not,’ intervened Lucilla, forestalling another withering comment from the captain. It was the bitterest moment of her life. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. A slow anger burned in the man.
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