“To the best of my belief, I have not a single English acquaintance in the city. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. ‘You dare to come to me? What do you wish of me? Why have you come? I do not want you!’ She swept round on Gerald abruptly and he braced for the onslaught. It’s all outside the world of your experience. “Thank goodness!” said that retreating aspect, “that’s said and over. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness.
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