A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. He said that his life was boring and stupid without her. ‘Eh bien, Eugénie. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. . . ’ She stopped, her lips tightening. “You are beautiful, Lucy. ’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak.
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