’ Madame Valade reseated herself, and Gerald set himself to flatter her into relaxation again. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. It ought not to be much. Then he turned to Anna. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. "I don't know. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. ” “Shirts?” “Shirts at one—and—something a dozen. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. He embraced her like her father once had.
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