Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. There was a very substantial profit in the transaction, for he paid the natives in commodities—coloured cotton cloths, pipes and tobacco, guns and ammunition, household utensils, cutlery and glass gewgaws. She was surprised and stared at him when he did not immediately leave the bed as Gianfrancesco always did, but instead rested on his elbows. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. “Who are you—Annabel Pellissier or her ghost?” Anna laughed. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. Day by day she followed the spiritual and physical contest between this man and woman. ” “It’s Shari’s work.
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