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A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. Kneebone," she added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, "look to yourself. " McClintock saw indeed—two things: that the boy had no conceit and that this odd girl would always be giving. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study.
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