"A sail?" said McClintock. “You are the type that I want to marry someday, you’ve got a beautiful body, such pretty eyes. Strange, I shouldn't know him when he called on me. ” She gazed at him. But something instinctive prevented that, and with the finest resolve not to be “silly” and prudish she found that whenever he became at all bold in this matter she became severely scientific and impersonal, almost entomological indeed, in her method; she killed every remark as he made it and pinned it out for examination. “I believe so.
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