Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. ‘We mean you no harm,’ he said reassuringly. ‘I did not think so. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. Everything had so far come to pass as the withered old Kanaka woman had foretold. One chance in a thousand, and that would be the girl. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account.
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