’ ‘What, even less delightful than Gerald?’ enquired Lucilla, her eyes dancing. “A silly little priestess who knew nothing of life at all until she came to you. Besides—there is Sir John. She held out both her hands. . She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. It doesn’t matter. . ‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald.
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