"'Tis a cruel thing you've done, lad. ’ ‘I don’t even know your granddaughter, ma’am. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. “Have to go now. It’s no good hiding it any more. You'll find me at supper. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. ” She laughed. I’m not a lovesick boy. Ennison,” she said, letting her fingers rest in his. Go quickly and call him. But perhaps I had better get a room in an hotel to-night and look round. .
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