ToC About an hour after this, Jack ventured to emerge from his place of concealment. I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock. Without whisky," went on McClintock, "your irritability is beyond tolerance. " "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. As for the doctor, he found a pleasure in this service that would have puzzled him had he paused to analyse it. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. .
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