" "You're a philosopher, too. You should have a dog. She glanced at him. “Well, I don’t feel like standing it. “I must explain to her. " "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. “Never mind. She had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine. Mother! do you know what you do? Would you sell yourself to this fiend?" "I would sell myself, body and soul, to save you," rejoined his mother, bursting from his grasp.
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