I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. 127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me.
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