McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone. She began to think persistently of Capes, and it seemed to her now that for some weeks at least she must have been thinking persistently of him unawares. CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject.
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