This isn't your island, child; it's the great world. C. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. For it was but logical that she would seek a divorce on the ground that she had unknowingly married a fugitive from justice.
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