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CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal. ‘He is not in England, you understand. ” He handed her the phone reluctantly, barely masking his mild disgust. “Until a girl can go away as a son does and earn her independent income, she’s still on a string. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. We leave England to-night. And I have no more the pistol. ’ ‘I have no game. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle. ” “And the second?” “Make love to a single woman. "Let me go," cried Winifred. .
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