CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. "It was given me by poor dear Mrs. She thought me— filthy. You deal with her. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. It is picturesquely situated beneath a tree on the high road, not far from the little hostel before mentioned, and at no great distance from the church. Thank goodness you’ll understand. “There’s twenty before you, and Mr. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story.
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