‘Why have you come in here?’ demanded Melusine, turning on him. Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. He continued thoughtfully. I bored him. ‘We needn’t murder Lucia. It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an obsession. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable.
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