Furiously, she dashed his hands away. Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo. It was, in a way, something of a joke to the doctor: psychology and physiognomy on an island which white folks did not visit more than three or four times a year, only then when they had to. Delight surged through her as her breasts, shoulders, and belly touched his naked flesh all at once. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. Wood, disdainfully. I simply warn you.
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