She refused coffee, though she knew that anyhow she was doomed to a sleepless night. ’ ‘Do not make a game with me,’ she interrupted, gripping her underlip firmly between her teeth to stop the threatening laughter. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. You understand. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. But there was a face pressed to the glass. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. “I wonder if you give me a thought. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites.
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