"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. Husbands and wives, young lovers, and mothers with strollers thronged in the streets, all savoring the fine cool weather. But they found him on the veranda when they returned from McClintock's that evening. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her.
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