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Updated: June 15, 2025
All the Croyden fellows have been in love with her at one time or another but they might as well have made up to a statue. Marian really hasn't a spark of feeling or sentiment in her. Her looks are the best part of her, although she's confoundedly clever." Peter spoke rather squiffily. I suspected that he had been one of the smitten swains himself.
"Yes," I answered. "Our latitude is normal, but our longitude is, I fear, at least three degrees out of the plumb. I am afraid, Miss Croyden," I added, speaking as mournfully as I knew how, "that you must reconcile your mind to spending a few days with me on this raft." "Is it as bad as that?" she murmured, her eyes upon the sea.
"I know," I interrupted, "so had ours." "The ship struck a rock, and blew out her four funnels " "Ours did too," I nodded. "The bowsprit was broken, and the steward's pantry was carried away. The Captain gave orders to leave the ship " "It is enough, Croyden," I said, "I see it all now. You were left behind when the boats cleared, by what accident you don't know " "I don't," said Croyden.
Here they careened their ships " "Did what to them?" asked Croyden. "Careened them all over from one end to the other," I said. "Here they got water and buried treasure; but beyond that the island was, and remained, only the home of the wild gull and the sea-mews " "All right," said Croyden, "only it doesn't happen to be that kind of key.
There was some awful mistake somewhere, for it could not be possible that there were two girls in Croyden who looked exactly like the photograph reposing in my valise at that very moment. I stammered like a schoolboy. "I oh I your face seems familiar to me, Miss Armstrong. I I think I must have seen your photograph somewhere." "Probably in Peter Austin's collection," smiled Miss Armstrong.
"Don't you know?" questioned the man. "No." "What made you stop here, then?" Jasper hesitated. There seemed no use in taking this man into his confidence. "I am going to take a look at the village. I suppose there is a village?" "Well," drawled the man, "there's some houses back." "What's the name of the place?" "Croyden." "How far back is the village?" "A matter of two miles."
There was nothing in sight. I was still searching the horizon when I heard a soft footstep on the raft behind me, and a light hand was laid upon my shoulder. "Forgive me," said the girl's voice. I turned about. Miss Croyden was standing behind me. She had, so I argued, removed her stockings and was standing in her bare feet.
I could see a little stream leaping among the rocks. With eager haste I paddled the raft close to the shore till it ground in about ten inches of water. I leaped into the water. With the aid of a stout line, I soon made the raft fast to a rock. Then as I turned I saw that Miss Croyden was standing upon the raft, fully dressed, and gazing at me.
With the aid of four stakes driven deeply into the ground and with blankets strung upon them, I managed to fashion a sort of rude tent, roofless, but otherwise quite sheltered. "Miss Croyden," I said when all was done, "go in there." Then, with little straps which I had fastened to the blankets, I buckled her in reverently. "Good night, Miss Croyden," I said.
At this stage Peter came west. He was something in a bank, and was as round and jolly as ever; but he had evidently changed his attitude towards girls, for his rooms were full of their photos. They were stuck around everywhere and they were all pretty. Either Peter had excellent taste, or the Croyden photographers knew how to flatter.
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