He pushed her small hand into his jeans. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. She sensed his acute frustration as he unzipped her raincoat while trying to kiss her. Though the starling was more than two feet above the level of the water, he alighted with his little charge—which he had never for an instant quitted—in safety upon it. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. There was going to be no quarter between these two. They were really very fine and abundant, with a blaze of perennial sunflowers behind them. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening.
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