When she released him he ran down the beach for a stick which he fetched and laid at her feet. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. She slipped her hand between them and grasped his erection. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. Katy had sneered at her for a moment, their eyes locking. ‘What is it that you told him?’ ‘Nothing, miss, I swear. He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. “Some afternoon. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. The knowledge breathed into her heart a satisfying warmth. She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission.
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