"Yes, sir," said McClintock, as he sat down; "that's South Sea stuff, that yarn of yours. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. "Well!" cried Mrs. I don’t half disagree with you, Vee, really; only thing is, I don’t see how you’re going to pull it off. “What was that?” she asked sharply.
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