At table he carved in a gloomy but resolute manner. He was like a man beside himself. ’ It had not before occurred to him, but this realisation fuelled the general’s growing conviction that he was being imposed upon in some way. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. “Your coffee’s too good to refuse. ” Jane was taken aback by Lucy’s weird candor.
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