" "Aye!" was McClintock's inaudible affirmative. "She was mine before you ever saw her. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. How came you by the hurt, eh?" "How did I come by it?—that's a nate question. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance.
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