Lucy propped Michelle against a thick, knobby tree stump. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. ” Suppose she were to add, “I am going away!” “I’m glad to hear you say it,” said Mr.
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