You're alone, too, child. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. ’ The core of hurt rose up, tearing at her insides. He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased.
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