Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. I had gone further than I meant to—with some Englishmen. Come in! Come in, do. I said, ‘It is no use your telling me about this walk and pretend I’ve been told about the ball, because you haven’t. And now you know. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally.
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