For a long time even the strong pipe tobacco (with which McClintock supplied him) possessed a coconut flavour. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes.
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