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Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. " This simple admission disarmed McClintock. It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. "You want him?" "Please!" said Ruth.
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