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For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. He was looking pale and ill. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. Near by stood Ah Cum and the young unknown, the former protesting gently, the latter insistent upon his demands. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. ‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding.
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