CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. "What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child," rejoined Mrs. ‘And we shall see which of us is more quick. “No, I’d like to. “Upon my word,” he exclaimed, “this is most extraordinary. It was really very jolly to talk to a man in this way—who saw the woman in her and did not treat her as a child. "We're forgetting," he said. He donned his winter coat.
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