“Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed. Deuce take it! I was very near spelling my name with one P. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. She was the first to recover herself. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. I barely prevailed sometimes, but in the end, my wits were faster than their steel. ‘Tell me, my boy.
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