Her gratitude swelled within her. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. While he was thus employed a farming man came into the barn. He never finished his sentence.
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