As he hesitated, unable to make up his mind what to do for the best, a heavy rumbling on the cobbles penetrated his absorption. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. McClintock would bang his fist upon the table. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years.
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