But threats and entreaties—even promises were ineffectual; and the unlucky captive, after exhausting his powers of persuasion, was compelled to give up the point. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal.
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