‘Point it at me. It was below consciousness, elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. "Set your prisoner free!" returned Wood. Why had he offered her that kiss on board The Tigress? Perhaps that had been his hour of disenchantment. In the circles into which he had been born, the passing on of land was of vital importance. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. It makes me desire life beyond measure.
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