You know you do, Annabel. Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. You see, I’m selfish. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. He began to tell me something—and stopped. Besides, by the time they were off his hands, old McClintock would be dropping in to have his liver renovated.
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