He was scarcely concealed when he heard the horsemen, who perceived they had overshot their mark, ride back. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. "What's the matter, lad, after all the wonderful fireworks at lunch?" Spurlock beheld McClintock standing beside him. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. Wood in the deepest mourning.
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