” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead. ’ ‘Lucilla,’ gasped Hilary, his cheeks reddening with wrath. His feet would have the firm texture of his hands. Nothing is settled upon. After fifteen years, to find that peculiarly Occidental attribute—college loyalty—still alive in his heart! A Western idea that had survived; an idea that was merely the flower of youthful enthusiasm! With his hands still in his sleeves, his chin down in speculation over this phenomenon, he continued his patrol.
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