There stepped forth a tall brown man. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her. “Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily.
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