Here are their letters. “I have a message from your sister. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. Her neck was smeared with red and remorse flooded him. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. She has been a dear. His face turned a dark crimson.
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