The parlour was cluttered but cosy. She touched bow to strings, playing a fifth. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. “You did not tell me that you were going out, or I would have offered my escort. The stores, the drying bins, McClintock's bungalows and the native huts sprawled around an exquisite landlocked lagoon.
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