What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. My nerves were in rags. It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind. Shot him, do you hear?” “Good God!” he exclaimed, looking at her curiously.
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