For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. " "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. " "I, a thief?" "Aye; thief, Roundhead and all.
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