The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children. \"Don't they want you to go to Stanford?\" \"They think it is too much money. “Are you serious?” “You know very well that I should never joke on such a subject. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried.
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