‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. That was what she was trying to make him understand. Thunder rumbled behind the manicured hills. “I suppose you could at least tune it for us if you know how to play. Mac's. ” She nodded.
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