CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. ’ So saying, she threw a meaning look over her shoulder at Lucilla, much to Gerald’s approval. That was odd: when young people were joyous, they had to express it physically. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. A nurse was at the other end of the room. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. ‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours. ’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol.
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