” “Oh, damn the thing!” Sir John exclaimed, tucking the loose ends inside his coat. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. 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. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. “Yeah, where the hell were you? My friends would have driven you home when I came home if I could have found you.
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