"We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. “Damn!” said Ann Veronica to herself, rousing herself for a conflict. She found herself looking sheepishly around the bedroom when a sudden tingle of electricity moved from her groin, fanning out from her belly. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English.
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