CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. “Why do you kill me?” Michelle asked. But just as they were about to place him on the ground, he burst from their hold, and made a desperate spring at Jonathan, who was standing with his arms folded near the door watching the scene. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. “Your coffee’s too good to refuse. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself.
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