’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. She would marry him. “You are in luck, Miss Pellissier,” he declared. McClintock's heart went out to Spurlock; he would always be the boy's friend, even though he had dragged this girl on to the rocks with him. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. She did not want to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be, they would be only curious strangers. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face.
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