She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. Wood governs me?" "It's plain you can't govern yourself, at all events," replied Jack coolly; "but, be that as it may, I won't be struck for nothing. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. “Rubbish!” he answered.
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