“No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. "But I have one last request to make. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. ” He dared, his nostrils flaring. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors.
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