" CHAPTER IX. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. The unknown, previously so attractive, now presented another face—blank. It reverberated in the silence. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. And I find I can't tell one stay from another!" McClintock laughed. “Your mother was a Gypsy. "Put it under my pillow," he said. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout.
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