Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. Mrs Sindlesham occupied a large padded armchair to one side of a corner fireplace, which gave out a heat more than adequate for September to one of the major’s robust constitution. Anyhow, there was some pleasurable satisfaction in knowing where the quarry would be for the next three weeks. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” He said. Pardon what I have said, Madam. If you don't conquer this disgraceful propensity in time, you'll soon come to want; and then nothing can save you.
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