"Thanks to you," said the doctor. CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. Jonathan caught her in his arms. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands.
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