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To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect. Some of the people who watched them standing side by side thought they must be newly wedded because of their happy faces, and others that they were an old-established couple because of their easy confidence in each other.
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