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She wanted to be alone. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. When she reflected that Mr. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. “I will be off,” she declared. "That'll teach you to keep a civil tongue in your head for the future," observed Thames, as he helped Jack to his feet. " "Did I hear you aright?" asked Trenchard, with startling eagerness. ’ But she reckoned without the fellow Trodger. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose.
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