‘It is all the fault of that lantern. She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. She gave tongue to the most urgent of her plaints. “I don’t think you can have heard me, Vee,” he said, with intensely controlled fury. Directly he saw Anna he accosted her. His father and mother are gone now. That I should be challenged by you of all people. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. The slow stars circled on to the moment of their meeting. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. uk Cover Art by David Evans Bailey www. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion.
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