” He paused, with his eyes studying her gravely. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please.
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