At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. "You depart for Lancashire to-morrow. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. “But Sebastian! I need them!” He smiled, not a smile of comfort, but a smile of terrible menace. Gerald lost his head. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned.
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