"Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. You are my wife now and you belong to me. Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society.
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