" CHAPTER XIII. ’ ‘I thank you,’ Gerald said drily. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. The evil in his eyes towards her was explosive. “You were booked of course. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. He is the kind of man who would much prefer a little dust in his eyes.
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