A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment. . He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours. “We may just as well have our talk afterwards,” she said, “and I need not keep poor Mr. The whole neighbourhood was disturbed. .
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