Women, she had been taught, who exposed the flesh of their bodies under the eyes of man were in a special catagory of the damned. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. And instead of accepting the situation gratefully, he felt vaguely hurt! One evening in September a proa rasped in upon the beach. He continued thoughtfully. “Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another.
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