. . ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. Something unpardonable is laid to my charge. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. “Close your eyes. No, don’t interrupt me. 271 His parents suggested that he go into therapy. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun.
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