Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. ” “A sort of history,” said Mr. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. "Did you ever see the like of her?" "No," answered McClintock, gravely. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. 3. .
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