Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. Dolls. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. Michelle burst into laughter, followed by John, who almost spit up his cola. CHAPTER VIII.
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