Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. “Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. "In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself.
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