’ ‘Who, Joan, who? Of whom do you speak?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham. ’ She giggled suddenly. Rather a hazardous spot for a convalescent, and McClintock had been doubtful at first; but Spurlock declared that he was a good sailor, which was true. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. Wood—and after him came his daughter. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her.
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