Every one looked at Anna. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. “I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. ‘Fiddle, Gerald. But she must not laugh. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. She told you —the truth. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated.
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