He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. And Pottiswick, of course. He could not know about the Remenham connection, could he? No one knew but her father and Martha. See what a horrible rascal you've let loose upon the world!" "I'm sure, mother," rejoined Winifred, "if any one was likely to feel resentment, I was; for no one could be more frightened. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself.
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