“I think,” she said, “that I would rather not have anything to say about that man. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. He stuck to the shop as long as it was necessary, and longer, in my opinion. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. Just let him down easy, Lucy. I got myself locked up to cool off. ‘Pitiful. I'm a slave to my word.
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