‘Let’s see now. The beach: to get there as quickly as he could, to reach the white man's nadir of abasement and gather the promise of that soothing indifference which comes with the final disintegration of the fibres of conscience. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. ‘I am not a murderer. “We’re going to be sensible. ” Annabel shivered a little and looked around her. It’s no good. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork.
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