All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. Just let him down easy, Lucy. '—'They can't,' says I. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. "At length, I have my wish," continued Mrs.
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