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This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. \" He mumbled, his eyes on her breasts. The very sight of these impediments, would have appalled a less courageous spirit than Sheppard's—but nothing could daunt him. “If you say so, Lucy. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. Home!— which I never hoped to see again.
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