CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. ‘She wants me to marry her. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. You got to take the world as it is, and the only possible trade for a girl that isn’t sweated is to get hold of a man and make him do it for her. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it. It is just how things happen to be. “Why not? Isn’t the whole thing a lie? Isn’t her reputation, this husband of hers, the ‘Alcide’ business, isn’t it all a cursed juggle? She hasn’t the right to do it. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse.
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