For a long time even the strong pipe tobacco (with which McClintock supplied him) possessed a coconut flavour. Now, she was the very reverse of all this. CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was.
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