Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. This fruit was McClintock's particular pride. And instead of accepting the situation gratefully, he felt vaguely hurt! One evening in September a proa rasped in upon the beach. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. You can have no shecrets from me.
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