Stopping before each door, they took up the plates of the locks, examined the ponderous bolts, and were struck with the utmost astonishment at what they beheld. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself. Just as he was about to drain it, he encountered the basilisk glance of Jonathan Wild, and paused. Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. I’m okay. She regarded the young man coldly. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned.
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