82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. She could no longer wait. ” “For example?” “Your dyed hair. " "Why?" McClintock put a hand on the doctor's shoulder. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. "Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. What!—add another drop to her cup? Who knows? Any day they may find me. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. ‘He was very kind to me.
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