CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. McClintock's was a plantation of ten thousand palms, yielding him annually about half a million nuts. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. Kneebone, who did not appear in the slightest degree disconcerted by his cool reception, each sank carelessly into a chair, and made himself at home in a moment. JONATHAN WILD.
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