“There is no time for that. " When Spurlock had finished the tale, touched here and there by his own imagination, McClintock made a negative sign. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. “I murdered them, John. It was there in the breast pocket, stiff and legal looking. I saw their boat swept away, and heard the roar of the fall beneath the bridge; and no one, who was present, could doubt the result. One always dreamed of this and never believed it.
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