He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. He did not even care for his own inheritance at this place in Wodeham Water. ’ ‘He did, you know,’ grinned Gerald. ’ He sat looking her over in silence for a moment or two, his thoughts revolving around the name and the way it fitted so exquisitely on quite another set of features. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. “Did they ever try it for themselves?” He wrestled his chin between her thighs as she tried to squeeze her legs shut upon his ears.
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