“I don’t think you can have heard me, Vee,” he said, with intensely controlled fury. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. They walked past his old jungle gym set to a hilly park that dwelled sleepily beyond his house. “That was a moment of madness,” she said. It is not at all what I expected either. I love you still, Anna, but life holds other things than the love of man for woman. You have nothing more to fear from Wild. I am your servitor. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. Pull yourself together now. “How would you prevent it?” she asked. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips.
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