Something softened in Melusine’s chest. I loved her beyond anything in heaven or on earth—to idolatry. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. 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. ‘Allow me.
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