But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. “Isn’t there a brother to kick him?” “Mere satisfaction,” reflected Ogilvy. " McClintock saw indeed—two things: that the boy had no conceit and that this odd girl would always be giving. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away.
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