Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. Without the protection of John’s star power, certain denizens of the school found new reserves of energy and turned their attention to her, especially Kate Pfister, a bleach blonde with a face that was a plain sort of pretty who had once dated John. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica.
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