” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. Thames sat with Winifred's hand clasped in his own, and commenced a recital of his adventures, which may be briefly told. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. Gianfrancesco’s had curved differently and was darker. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. You’ll have to find someone else. ’ There was a silence.
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