‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe. He stepped quickly towards her. She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether.
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