You’re dealing with me now, not Gerald. She winked at him as he shut the door. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. "Can't you guess?" returned Winifred, throwing her arms about her neck. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. I almost wish we hadn't come. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. The first circumstance that struck her on her arrival seemed ominous.
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