" "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. Brendon. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. They litter up the room. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. ” She said warmly. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him.
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