‘I thought, you see, that we might as well enter by the same way our intruder had done. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. ’ She tossed her head. . Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. Mr. Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. And she’s pluck to the backbone. Superimposed was the agitating thought of what would follow the death of this unwelcome guest: confusion, poking authorities, British and American red tape. Her anger died and she eyed him.
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