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were vague and indistinct, and their shouts of farewell came torn and

disjointed to those afloat. "He's a crabbit ould blirt, too" grumbled the

serving man, referring to Andrew, as he and Pentland turned away. But his

master only grunted. He v.as preoccupied with the image of the sturdy,

pale,smooth-haired woman in whose company he had been for the past three

hours.

He remembered Frank Echlin's fingers sunk in her thigh and waist and a

tremor ran through him. The slipe caught on a stone, and Pentland turned

round to look down on the lough. The boat had vanished and the grey fretted

water was hardly distinguishable from the rain and mist that swept across

it.