“MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica. Poor Ben was not so fortunate. "What is it you want of me?" "All you know about this young fellow Spurlock. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. And how comes his cloak on this knave's shoulders?" "It is his cloak, of a surety," returned Rowland "Harkye, sirrah," continued he, haughtily interrogating Wood; "where is the person from whom you received this mantle?" "Throttling a man isn't the way to make him answer questions," replied the carpenter, doggedly. CHAPTER XXVIII. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate.
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