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Updated: May 20, 2025
Throw in a few more flowers and a little more sunshine than is usual, a man who is practically a hermit and a woman who knows the world by heart, and you have the whole thing. "She insisted on staying in Santasalare for three days in order to keep my finger bandaged; she ended by staying three weeks in the hope of smashing up my life.
Chilcote made a hasty gesture, but the other interrupted it. "Oh, I know you trust me. But you're giving me a risky post. I want you to see that women are out of my line quite out of it." "But, my dear chap " Loder went on without heeding. "This thing happened eight years ago at Santasalare," he said, "a little place between Luna and Pistoria a mere handful of houses wedged between two hills.
After that the end came abruptly. In her eyes I had become a fool with middle-class principles; in my eyes But there is no need for that. She left Santasalare the same night in a great confusion of trunks and hat-boxes; and next morning I strapped on my knapsack and turned my face to the south." "And women don't count ever after?" Chilcote smiled, beguiled out of himself. Loder laughed.
For the first time Loder involuntarily drew back into his corner of the couch. "I never guess," he said, brusquely. "Then I'll tell you. His hands were the hands of my Englishman! The rings covered the scar made by Ko Ko's teeth. I knew it instantly the second my eyes rested on it. It was the same scar that I had bound up dozens of times that I had seen healed before I left Santasalare."
Only that night he had unconsciously compared one incident in his life to a sketch in which the lights and shadows have been obliterated and lost. Now that picture rose before him, startlingly and incredibly intact. He saw the sunlit houses of Santasalare, backgrounded by the sunlit hills saw them as plainly as when he himself had sketched them on his memory.
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