She was the first to hear another car approaching from the street, an odd occurrence in an elementary school lot that had been abandoned for the weekend. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. F. "Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. McClintock, without comment, accepted the hand. “Idiot!” She raged inwardly while she walked along with that air of self-contained serenity that is proper to a young lady of nearly two-and-twenty under the eye of the world.
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