The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. Everything had so far come to pass as the withered old Kanaka woman had foretold. ‘I think you’ve gone stark, staring crazy. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. You might get faint, but you can fight it. “Oh, I know you would stop me if you could. Besides—there is Sir John.
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