Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. The unfortunate carpenter struggled violently, but ineffectually. ” “You are at least aware,” he said, “that you have on several recent occasions acted in direct opposition to my wishes.
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