“Well,” she said. For aught I know, they may be in the neighbourhood at this moment. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance.
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