You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. Wood turned to look at him. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. Someday I'll take you down there and have them rig up the coconut dance for you. Lucy propped Michelle against a thick, knobby tree stump. Most of it had been incomprehensible to her, or comprehensible in a way that checked further curiosity, but the figure of Vivien, hard, capable, successful, and bullying, and ordering about a veritable Teddy in the person of Frank Gardner, appealed to her. She paused for a moment. “I don’t see that his being a good sort matters. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly.
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