She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. "Think not to deceive me, monster. Wood," said the lady bridling up, "my request may, perhaps, have some weight with you. ‘Did you see the man?’ Gerald asked. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother.
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