Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. Frequently he would take up a box of talc and send a shower down his back, or fill his palms with the powder and rub his face and arms and hands. “And let’s have a look at you, Vee!” said Mr. Miss Charvill. Anna, who had thrown aside her sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him.
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