‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently. “It was very tiring. Thus, McClintock carried to Copeley's press about half a million pounds of copra. The other lay unconscious in a heap. Yet there was nothing for her to do.
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