Millie’s voice cracked with a cry, her grip tightening on the pin.

“Don’t take my hairpin,” she muttered.

The intensity of her unconscious hold startled Marcus.

A newfound contentment settled over him, and he ceased his efforts, simply covering her with a quilt, leaving the hairpin in her determined grasp.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw her face.

Millie’s lips had turned a worrying shade of purple from the cold, making her look as if she’d been poisoned.

was heard coming

the doorbell and holding the tonic

opened

for Mrs.

box, Marcus opened it, and a delicious aroma filled the room. He turned and headed

she sat up,

asked, her

hand, holding the thermos box, paused when he heard

help her regain strength, he asked, “Would you

moved to Millie’s bedside and poured her a bowl of

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