Someday I'll take you down there and have them rig up the coconut dance for you. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. Tender with the sick, firm with the strong, fearless, with a body that had the resistance of iron, there was nothing of the hypocrite in him. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves.
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