Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. “It is true,” he said, “that I was dining last night at a restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes, and it is true that my companion was a young lady whose name is Pellissier.
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