Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Sulphurous poisons assaulted her nostrils as she threw the stone to one side of its resting place. Ann Veronica’s desire to laugh unrestrainedly was checked by the tremendous earnestness of his expression. Very well. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. ‘Now then,’ said the captain sternly, ‘I’m not going to ask you what you’re doing here. "Nobody has so much cause for complaint as me," growled Austin. "So has the butterfly evil thoughts.
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