CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. " "I don't know," said McClintock. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. I tried.
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