The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. Ah Cum patrolled the length of the boat innumerable times, but never letting his glance stray far from the gangplank. He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. Sheppard. And I was altogether disgusted when he kissed me. It might be dangerous to thwart him.
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