There is the election——” He laughed derisively. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. . He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded.
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