And Rollo, who had been waiting for some encouraging sound, presented himself at the doorway. CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. “What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?” he answered fiercely. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. "The danger's past," whispered Bess. ‘Well, nothing,’ uttered her betrothed crossly, before Gerald could answer.
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