CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. The telegram dispatched, his obligation cancelled, Ah Cum proceeded homeward, chuckling occasionally. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. Particles of bullet were embedded in Rhea’s large arm as she swung across the stones in her donated legs. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. And on Monday and Tuesday she had failed to find him here. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions. On weighing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to descend, and inform him of his misgivings.
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