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.

heard coming from

ringing the doorbell and holding the tonic Marcus had

quickly opened the

for Mrs.

it, and a delicious

open, and she

amazing smell?” she asked, her voice weak

holding the thermos box, paused when he

would help her regain strength, he asked, “Would you

moved to Millie’s bedside and poured her a bowl

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