“Her look was furtive. He hadn’t been in the walnut tree this morning, thank goodness, and there was no sign of him now. Laurel slipped into the garage, blinking as she came out of the sun, and ran to her Austin. ‘Morning, Little Beaver.’ ‘Mac! Damn you.’ Crowe Macgowan came around the big Packard, grinning. ‘I had a hunch you had a little something under your arm-pit last night when you told me how late you were going to sleep this morning. Official business, hm?’ He was dressed. Mac looked ver...y well when he was dressed, almost as well as when he wasn’t. He even wore a hat, a Swiss yodeller sort of thing with a little feather. ‘Shove over.’ ‘I don’t want you along today.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Mac, I just don’t.’ ‘You’ll have to give me a better reason than that.’ ‘You … don’t take this seriously enough.’ ‘I thought I was plenty serious on the frog safari.’ ‘Well … Oh! all right. Get in.’ Laurel drove the Austin down to Franklin and turned west, her chin northerly.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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