‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French. It was a second reminder that against her claim to go free and untrammelled there was a case to be made, that after all it was true that a girl does not go alone in the world unchallenged, nor ever has gone freely alone in the world, that evil walks abroad and dangers, and petty insults more irritating than dangers, lurk. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. Dolls. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. There was a very substantial profit in the transaction, for he paid the natives in commodities—coloured cotton cloths, pipes and tobacco, guns and ammunition, household utensils, cutlery and glass gewgaws. She stared. And among human beings, too, women to begin with were the rulers and leaders; they owned all the property, they invented all the arts. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark.
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