The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. ‘Oh, we was always in there, miss,’ admitted Joan, moving closer. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. Aroused by the sound of the church bells, he resolved, at whatever risk, to attend Divine service. But before the Grieg concerto was done, she knew that she was free. She stared. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. ’ ‘But this is idiot. " Romance! The Seven Seas are hers. Down we come!" he exclaimed, letting go the plank, which fell with a crash, and leaping after Sheppard, who had rolled off the frame.
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