The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. Rather a hazardous spot for a convalescent, and McClintock had been doubtful at first; but Spurlock declared that he was a good sailor, which was true. The stranger turned his head at the sound. We thought of starting in half an hour’s time, and trying for a theatre somewhere on the way. " "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly.
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