“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. Why? Because he knew that when these two young people left, the island would become intolerable. To get behind that impenetrable curtain, to learn why she hated her island. Alone; not even the dog to warn her, and Hoddy deep in the island somewhere. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. But I’d have done it without, though it weren’t my place. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is.
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