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\" Mike retorted churlishly. CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. They walked side by side for a time. "What is all this, dear Winny?" inquired Thames, as soon as they were alone. E. What!—add another drop to her cup? Who knows? Any day they may find me. This spot, which still retains its name, acquired the appellation from an old crone who lived there, and who, in addition to a very equivocal character for honesty, enjoyed the reputation of being a witch. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. "Of course," rejoined the bystander, who had just spoken, and who was of a cynical turn,—"the greater the rascal, the better they like him. I was always told my mother died the day I was born. We felt like thieves.
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