‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure. And now let's go back to the Shovels, and finish our brandewyn and bier, Muntmeester. ‘Very well, Kimble. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. He did not notice that Ann Veronica was preoccupied and heavy-eyed. Promise me. Gerald realised Lucy had taken the hint, for she dragged her betrothed towards the door. Ann Veronica sat down in the other arm-chair and darned badly for a minute or so. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. ‘Yes, I know. ” She said.
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