“Anything you want, mister?” The voice of the night watchman startled him.
“Just looking.”
“This is private property.”
“I know. And that’s the trouble, isn’t it?”
“Trouble with what? Don’t you give me trouble, mister. I’m asking you nice to get back in your car and go.”
Jimmy Wing snapped his cigarette into the black and dwindling waters of Grassy Bay and walked slowly back to the car. Long after he had crossed to the mainland he fancied that he could still hear the sound of the dredges.