And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth. Master, your humble servant. I am not angry with you, but with this—this—’ ‘Idiot? Imbecile?’ offered Gerald in a helpful tone. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least.
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