She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. His face will be all I need. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. How different were his present feelings compared with those he had experienced on quitting it. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. Besides, it is all reversed now, you know. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him.
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