“It was a long, keen gash like a brush stroke – for a craft with the speed of this Sheila had never boarded before, let alone attempted to navigate. She praised heaven for two crumpets and a dish of tea: spoil which made all the difference to her hand and head. She had travelled a mile at least, but still she kept the throttle full out. It was scarcely an occasion to stand upon the order of her going, even if at this pace a touch from a floating log would mean the end of her. Better that tha...n be beaten again by Belamy Mannering and the false Alaster. And there was exhilaration in swapping dangers; the motion was not in itself disconcerting – rather like a gargantuan canter – and she could concentrate on the difficult job. The difficult job was to look right and left; there was dizziness in turning one’s eyes anywhere but straight ahead. Two things were supremely important: whether they had another craft capable of pursuit; and whether by the side of this loch as it stretched into distance there was any sort of motor road.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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