She had not at first the power for concealment. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. “What are you doing here? How dare you come to my rooms!” The man stepped into the middle of the room. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. At least the sun would not be as bright, which was a welcome reprieve from the mercilessly bright early summer days which had invigorated every man, woman, and child in the suburbs but were wearing Lucy down into acute fatigue, along with her hunger.
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