" "Oh, no,—no," replied Mrs. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. It had been intensified and corrupted by time, as if to add insult to injury. Tell me why you ran away from the convent. Let’s go on climbing now. Then she called a hansom and drove home. Wood.
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