'" "Slave?" echoed Jack. The windows of these rooms were obscured with draperies, their floors a carpet patchwork; the china ornaments on their mantels were of a class apart. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. " "I don't know," said McClintock. I’ve told you that practically already. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek.
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