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. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. John did not see her until the last period. Spurling in alarm. At this juncture, a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden. Outside the door he turned and stared at the panels. It began as a joke.
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