He couldn't have taken Mr. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. I don’t know.
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