But Jack and his companion were already gone. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired. 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. Suspending his labour on Jack's appearance, the man demanded his business. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. A shiver slid down inside her.
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