She could have kissed Cathy. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot. “For me there is no second turn.
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