Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. You cannot do a murder and expect that you will not be punished. She had told Emile. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. He yielded his place and struck instead with his tongue. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed.
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