’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. That’s all. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. We’re going in. Mike knocked on the door. They fell into step again. Mr. “Are you A, B, C, or D?” he asked. For a long time there had been a standing offer from the company at Copeley's to take over the McClintock plantation; and today he had decided to sell. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate.
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