Light flooded the place. ‘It is nothing. ” Anna looked up with a doubtful smile of non-recognition. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. She made a quick movement, and the hand fell away. Stanley, with an imperious gesture, “to come in here.
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