Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. Without Sheila, the denizens of the neighborhood might forget they had the ability to communicate with each other. He had been the one to dress her in the finest silks and brocades, and here she was, displayed for the world to see in 248 drugstore makeup and the uniform of an old schoolteacher. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life.
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