Anna did not pause, but she looked over her shoulder with slightly lifted eyebrows. 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. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. “I didn’t know you were half-Gypsy either. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing.
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