"Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. “Let’s go home. Shari was to be protected, to be dissuaded from driving in cars with older boys at night, to be steered away from dope and beer and certain friends who had no plans to work or to go to college.
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