"It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. ‘No, you don’t. ” John gestured. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. “Why could you not confide in us?” “Do what?” said Ann Veronica. “I shall come back, if at all, a new man. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. You have been her guardian angel.
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