The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. He stood still, almost breathless. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. “Like what, Lucy?” She saw the panic threaten to overtake him. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. It is attested, you will observe, by the Reverend Mr. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. ‘How did you get in? The house is all locked up.
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