The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. Let me have more light, that I may behold him. You have actually given up a dinner-party to dine alone with me. “I’ll try to stop by. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. Do you see why I have hidden the terrible things from you? I chose you because you are my perfect mate.
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