There has never been a white woman at McClintock's. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. "I've a good deal to do. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. You love money. This time they would call it murder. She covered herself with her arms. . Only promise me this.
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