The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. Pearls in the dawn light, flashing and burning! "You don't like your island?" "I hate it!… But, there!"—weariness edging in. I'm about to ring for supper. —'They have,' says he. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. ’ ‘I didn’t say I did not enjoy it,’ Gerald protested. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. ” “Oh, you mean Mr. ” She said.
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