"Did you ever hear me whine?" "No," admitted McClintock "You've no objection to my dropping in again later, after your guests go?" "No. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. ’ He shifted unguardedly, and hissed a breath, wincing.
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