So, why did you slam the door in John Diedermayer's face?\" Lucy did not look at her, but cocked her head skyward. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. "Yes, sir," said McClintock, as he sat down; "that's South Sea stuff, that yarn of yours.
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