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She declined his offer, yet with a maiden's secret fretfulness over the perception that her judgment compelled her into a step against the wishes and sighs of her heart. He caught his breath and stood with lifted face, as the white light swept it, lingered on it, drew from it reluctantly. "Well, I'll put the roan in the stable, Tom; then I'll mosey 'cross home and get my men at the cider-makin'. A few frosts like last night's, an' all the apples will be soured. See you tonight at prayer-meetin'.".

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He led the way to the house, Maurice following meekly with the market-basket, eyes running tears and throat burning. "Harry O'Dule," she gasped, as he swung the gate wide, "is it re'lly you?" "Frank told Mr. Reddick, the preacher who came to bury old Scroggie, all that had passed between him an' the dead man but although they hunted high an' low fer the will, they never found it. Nor did they find any of the money the ol' miser must have left behind—not a solitary cent. That was over a year ago, an' they haven't found money or will yet. But this goes to show what a real feller Frank Stanhope is. He put a fine grave stone up for ol' Scroggie an' had his name engraved on it. Yes he done that, an' all he ever got from the dead man was his curses. Mr Greyquill stood up. His eyes had a peculiar light in them, a faint flush was painted on each cheek, and seemed to make whiter yet the whiteness of his brows and his hair..