The conceit of Howard Spurlock in imagining he knew what mental suffering was! But Enschede was right: Ruth must never know. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. People think it is, but they are wrong. She hunted the markets for bread and treats so they could feast during the day. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. He yelled but he had no breath to support his own voice.
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