She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. ‘You said it. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. However, that’s over and done with. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily.
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