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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"Poison Island"

"Not to put too
fine a point upon it, you make me feel thoroughly sick; but"--she
hesitated on the threshold of the window"--the worst of it is, I
think I understand you a little."
I drew back into the shadow. Her stiff skirt almost struck me on the
cheek as she passed, and, crossing the verandah, leant with both
hands on the rail, while her face went up to the sky and the newly
risen moon.
A voice spoke to her from the moonlit terrace below.
"Hallo!" she answered. "Is that Captain Branscome?"
"It is, ma'am: _and_ Miss Plinlimmon--Amelia--as she allows me to
call her."
Miss Belcher cut him short with a laugh. It rang out frank and free
enough, and only I, crouching by the wall, understood the hysterical
springs of it.
"You two geese!" she exclaimed, and ran down the steps to them.

"Was that Lydia?" demanded Mr. Rogers, a moment later, as he came
along the verandah.
"It was," I answered.
"I don't understand these people," grumbled Mr. Rogers, pausing and
scratching his head. "There was to have been a meeting outside here,
directly after supper, to divide off Doctor Beauregard's share; but
confound it if every one don't seem to be playing hide-and-seek!
Where's the Doctor?"
"In the dining-room," said I, nodding towards the window.


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