I could not have spoken to her. How is it that everyone is aware of these things except me?\" She said. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair.
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