It simply doesn’t count. ’ Exasperated, Gerald glared at her. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. ‘See that writing table? Go and look in the drawer there. I ask you, although it is not my place to ask you, to return home. He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced. Not wisely but too well. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings.
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