For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. She had no intention of fighting fair. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. . She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. She appeared to be considering. Gerald’s gaze bored into hers. So he made his dispositions and went off on some other fool’s errand. She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission.
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