It's a West Indian island all right, but there's a summer hotel on the other end of it not two miles away." "A summer hotel!" we exclaimed.
"Yes, a hotel.

I suspected it all along.

I picked up a tennis racket on the beach the first day; and after that I walked over the ridge and through the jungle and I could see the roof of the hotel.

Only," he added rather shamefacedly, "I didn't like to tell her." "Oh, you coward!" cried Clara.

"I could slap you." "Don't you dare," said Edith.