CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Anna sent her away. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. “I remember it very well indeed. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. ‘You wish a life of obedience? So be it, Mademoiselle Charvill. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. " The doctor gave Spurlock's hand a friendly pressure. A man as rich as you are ought to have a thousand-ton yacht. The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. “Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air.
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