CHAPTER XXVI. All four people moved a little nervously into the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound and movement. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. One puts gloves on one’s greedy fingers. “Please stop fighting me. Surely she could ignore him. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. Oh! and love—love! We’ve had so splendid a time, and fought our fight and won. If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the witless cruelty of the act. . Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. She drew a long breath.
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