I consented to become Mrs. "So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory. ” An immense gulf seemed to open between father and daughter as he said these words. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. The heroism of two beach combers had saved all on board and their own manhood as well. ’ He grimaced.
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