“Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out. It’s true. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault.
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