At the opening of the van doors and the emergence into the fresh air Ann Veronica’s doubt and depression gave place to the wildest exhilaration. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. Do so; and I am yours as heretofore. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions.
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