He was made welcome as McClintock's agent; but he politely declined all the proffered courtesies. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her. ’ She eyed him. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. "Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. Sir James Thornhill, then, rose. " "Probably not. " "That kind of talk makes you sound like a white man. For a time he and Miss Klegg contradicted one another. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. And if I hadn't been thirsty, that poor boob would have made a sure getaway and left James Boyle high and dry among the moth-balls! Oh, the old dome works once every so often.
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