Annabel, I was lying. ‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. “How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart.
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