"I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. She would not forgive me. This fruit was McClintock's particular pride. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. As matters now stand, I'm only a thief, not a blackguard. Why, honestly enouch. Firstly, she did not intend to marry at all, and particularly she did not mean to marry Mr. ‘But you said she was looking for proof.
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