Certain of my prey, I can afford to wait for it. ’ ‘Oui, mais—’ ‘You are, without exception, the most unprincipled, the most unscrupulous, the most shameless, immoral, devious—’ ‘Pardon me, sir,’ burst in Mrs Ibstock suddenly, her tone belligerent, bringing the captain’s tirade to an abrupt halt as he turned to glare at her. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. It ought not to be much. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. Everything in the world had changed for her. She took to listening through closed doors. “You will have some tea?” she asked.
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