This is a tale of two young fools. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. " "Your arrival was most providential," said Jack. A pity, en effet, that she dare not truly desire him to rescue her. But he was always forcing her to say and do such unexpectedly conclusive things. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. One hour later she had gone back to the mission—without the salt. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. Superimposed was the agitating thought of what would follow the death of this unwelcome guest: confusion, poking authorities, British and American red tape. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion. Her eyes noted it mercilessly. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground.
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