‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. " "Isn't that lagoon gorgeous? I wonder if there'll be sharks?" "Not in the lagoon. It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do. " When Spurlock had finished the tale, touched here and there by his own imagination, McClintock made a negative sign. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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