CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. "If the best nag ever foaled were to throw me in this unlucky spot, I'd blow his brains out. He would know the truth then once and for all. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. Katy oozed money from every pore of her being. .
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