Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. It was her distinctive test of an emotional state, its interference with a kindly normal digestion. And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot.
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