The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. "If things had gone smoothly," he thought, "I should have cursed the fellow's stupidity. “You let him touch you!” John whispered back. She felt she was now near her boy, and, nothing doubting her ability to rescue him from his perilous situation, she breathed a fervent prayer for his deliverance; and bending her steps towards the tavern in question, revolved within her mind as she walked along the best means of accomplishing her purpose.
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