Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. "A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice.
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