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Why? Here was a curtain indeed. This ice was used for refrigerator purposes and for McClintock's evening peg. It was no use. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. No other man should touch her; she was Hoddy's, body and soul, in this life and after. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing.

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