He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. The novel danger of the situation enthralled him. “May I sit beside you?” “It’s a very difficult one,” said her aunt. And Suzanne, even that she has behaved to me not at all like a mother, would also not have said. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. She looked at him mournfully.
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