F. ’ He grinned. . " McClintock preferred to put it thus. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. As it is, we've only a couple of ducks—and they were intended for you. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. .
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