She met him by the dugout after the game. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. One swift glance about the room, and a sensation of grim foreboding swept through him. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. Come along, you mad jade. Oh, John.
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