" "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. She opened the door to him herself. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. And my wife won’t live with me for reasons that I think most women would consider sound.
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