“Michelle, it’s me, Lucy. Sebastian howled with laughter, doubling over. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. A pig, yes, a little. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon. . It was Annabel who caught at the paper. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. He was suddenly calm. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. ‘Though we might have done, if a certain addlepated clothhead hadn’t let her get away.
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