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The man was mad to marry me. “Don’t!” cried Ann Veronica, struggling faintly, and he released her. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men. "Good-bye, young man; and good luck. She had fallen asleep. Why didn’t he die?” Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room.
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