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Updated: July 5, 2025
"I am a little," she answered, trying to overcome her terror. "But where do these come from?" "You know the saw-mill at the other end of the town, beyond Mr. Bayne's? There are three or four Indians at work there, and they go out sometimes at night to fish."
Knowing how far from Bayne's mind was the emotion, the intention, she ascribed to him, that she would fain foster, his face grew rueful and overcast. He shook his head with disconsolate rebuke. "Oh, you woman, you!" But the reproach did not strike home. Mrs.
Lillian cried, seizing Bayne's wrist in a grip like steel. "Take me to my child!" He could not be rid of her importunacy, and he came to think it was well that the two should be separated, for Mrs. Briscoe had not abandoned all self-control, and her gallant struggle for composure appealed for his aid. "No," she had said firmly; "Ned would expect me to wait for him here.
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