" "Are you friendly toward him?" asked McClintock, passing a fine cigar across the table. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little coterie of pleasure-seekers. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the description of her as a child,—but that was the only drawback to her beauty. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem. When I've had an hour's rest, I'll be after Blueskin.
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