“You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. And I find I can't tell one stay from another!" McClintock laughed. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. His face brightened at the sight of her, and he came toward her. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. McClintock.
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