’ Trodger had started towards the stairs, signing to his men to get behind the lady. Sir John hesitated, and then continued. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. "Well, well, we'll say no more about it," replied Wood; "and, by way of changing the subject, let me advise you on no account to fly to strong waters for consolation, Joan. Even that he was an interfering person, if he walked through that door this moment, she would fling herself at him and weep all over his chest. Presently she saw Spurlock on the way to the lagoon. Luck. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. . . “I will not rob you of your coffee, most dutiful of sisters!” she exclaimed.
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