“Hainault, Celeste’s friend. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. She thought her niece very hard and very self-possessed and self-confident. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. She gave her a wink when John had turned to ask Mark if Lucy could ride home with them. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. "After him," cried Wild; "he mustn't escape.
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