Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. I’ve got to have you, and by God I will. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. In vain Wood protested his innocence. ’ Gerald remained infuriatingly calm. Occasionally he relit his pipe. The boy was coming around. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth.
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