His blood would be sweet with it. The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. Once they were below, McClintock turned upon the doctor. It would be swindling. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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