At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. Slowly and reluctantly she came to realize that Vivie Warren was what is called an “ideal. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. . “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. “I am very glad that you have come here. I think not, Annabel. And I want him out of uniform.
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