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He would come swiftly to her aid, she knew it. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife. There was nothing to be learned from her face. She tore open the envelope and read it. And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready.
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