" "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. He did not know what her game was, although he had a shrewd suspicion that she had been co-opted into it by her supposed husband, the soi-disant Valade. But he did not follow on with the thought. God had never answered any of her prayers. " "Iss, missis," grinned the black. Men usually do. Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk. ” “Nothing that one wants. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. Your reputation for hospitality would remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned. He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society.
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