The pistol was lowered slightly. He went on. ’ ‘But you do not make love,’ Melusine pointed out. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. The party resolved itself for Ann Veronica into a game in which she manoeuvred unostentatiously and finally unsuccessfully to avoid talking alone with this gentleman. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. It was easy enough to lie to anyone else. The metrical irregularity is intentional, because I want, as it were, to put you apart: to change the lilt and the mood altogether when I speak of you. Get on with it, then.
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