‘Merci,’ Melusine said, and smiled. 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. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. I just suppose it isn’t worth the trouble. Wild never was the associate of thieves. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. The rejection caught him like a slap in the face. You must live for me. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I think of that before?’ ‘What are you talking of?’ ‘Never mind that now. ” “I don’t understand. ’ Melusine gasped. “You needn’t say a word more,” Mr.
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