Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. Her eyes where glassy and shining. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. " "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. For she and this old lady became at once friends. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. He drew an awed breath. .
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