Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. "Children," said the aunt, first to awake, "be young fools as long as God will permit you. I didn’t know.
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