“If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. Wood. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. ’ He smiled down at her. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. Sheppard snatched back her hand from his grasp, and exerted all her force to repel his advances.
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