“Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. " But she did not complete the thought aloud. ‘I do not steal,’ declared the lady hotly. 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. She never calls herself ‘Alcide. Someday I'll take you down there and have them rig up the coconut dance for you. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little.
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