His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. ‘You said—who?’ ‘Remenham. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. What happened? Did you turn me?” “Yes, my love. Griffin. Later, when the Reverend Henry Dolby entered the Spurlock room, his wife and daughter trailing amusedly behind him, and beheld the strained eagerness on the two young faces, he smiled inwardly and indulgently. Evidently he was gazing at the dull red roofs of the city: but was he registering what he saw? Never glance sideways at man, the old Kanaka woman had said. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend.
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