Lost ground must be regained. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. Too much, perhaps. Ben watched these manoeuvres with great interest, and strained every sinew in his frame to keep ahead of the other boats. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. Oh, and weeks and months of thought and feeling there are bottled up too. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man.
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