They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other. Interrogation takes many forms, you know, Lucy. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. Not a word passed between them. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. . A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. " "But not for me," growled Terence, in an under tone. . “You look more like your old self when you smile,” he remarked.
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