They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. As he was conveyed thither, an incident occurred that produced a considerable impression on the feelings of the youthful offender. ‘Deaf? Deaf? I’ll have you know, miss—’ ‘Do not have me know anything,’ interrupted Melusine crossly, and digging into her habit, produced the fateful dagger that had cut Gerald’s hand. It made her hungry. Stanley, “just a moment.
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