‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. This heroine ruled an island which (in the '80s) was rich with shell—pearl-shell; and she fought pearl thievers and marauding beachcombers, fought them with weapons and with woman's guile. Suppose our proper place is a shrine. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. Lucy sighed, finding it odd to switch roles as she had over the past weeks. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended.
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