" So saying, he unbuckled the belt to which the janizary's hanger was attached, and fastened it to his own girdle. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. He would teach her all he knew of life so that if the Hand should ever reach his shoulder, she would be able to defend herself.
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