I found it on the beach, just sitting there nestled inside a piece of driftwood. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. ‘Would you like me to enquire for your mystery lady, Gerald? I know the Comte and Comtesse de St Erme quite well. She leaned back in the cab with half-closed eyes. We just hit against each other, and here we are flying off at a tangent, a little surprised at what we are doing, all our principles abandoned, and tremendously and quite unreasonably proud of ourselves. He seemed to be. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. How Jack Sheppard's Portrait was painted.
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