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Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. "Do me the favour to seat yourself, Jack," said Sir James. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. The stores, the drying bins, McClintock's bungalows and the native huts sprawled around an exquisite landlocked lagoon. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be Capes’ friend. Michelle was too polite to put it into words.
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