Once they were below, McClintock turned upon the doctor. ‘I must, for that the pig has already gone to monsieur le baron. I believe that his recovery was considered almost miraculous. I am up to the ears in it all— every moment I can spare. Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea. They got in my mouth. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do.
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