She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. It'll be your own fault if you don't soon get another and a proper young man into the bargain. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. He’s waiting. ” Michelle mulled over Lucy’s words thoughtfully. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. Ain't we, partner?" he added, appealing to Langley, whom punch had made rather dozy. We men are like children.
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