He has often told me that if he could play sober, he would go to America and reap a fortune. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. The south-east end of the island was hillocky, with volcanic subsoil. The girl was flushed with excitement, bright-eyed, and braced for a struggle; her aunt had never seen her looking so fine or so pretty.
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