CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. She nibbled at his neck gently, sweetly, as her hand tracing his chest. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. It was most amusing. There would be no moon. ’ The snaking suspicion rolled through his mind again. "Not the sort of stories young ladies should read.
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