"Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. "By desire of his Majesty," said the jailer, consequentially.
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