It had been intensified and corrupted by time, as if to add insult to injury. This done, she waited at the side of the bed; but he gave no sign that he was conscious of her nearness. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. Plote was sleeping or deaf. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. Lucy stared at the girl for a long ten seconds, and then looked away. But for me it doesn’t matter. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. “I’m being honest with you.
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