Ann Veronica halted a pace, and Miss Klegg came alongside. “For no other reason than you talk too much. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. Sydney Courtlaw, live here, please?” Anna asked him. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict.
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