And this damning evidence―’ with a brusque gesture at the portrait ‘―must also be destroyed. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. “You need a reason. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. Capes sat watching and admiring her, and then he fell praising the day and fortune and their love for each other. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. “But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. . Mr. ’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse.
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