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.

doorbell ringing was heard coming from

outside, ringing the doorbell and holding

opened

for Mrs.

it, and a delicious aroma filled

and she sat up,

she asked,

hand, holding the thermos box, paused

strength, he asked,

bedside and poured her

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