There has never been a white woman at McClintock's. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue.
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