“I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. There will be no avoiding it. The stores, the drying bins, McClintock's bungalows and the native huts sprawled around an exquisite landlocked lagoon. ’ ‘What?’ squeaked Kimble. I won't have a beachcomber on the island. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that.
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