.

.

eh?
_what_ widows?
You don't mean to tell me that Satan-- ?" Miss Marty broke off and gazed at Scipio with dawning suspicion, distrust, apprehension.

She had never completely reconciled herself with the poor fellow's colour.

The Major, in moments of irritation, would address him as "You black limb of Satan." He came from the Gold Coast, and she had heard strange stories of that happily distant, undesirable shore; stories of devil-worship, and--was it there they practised suttee?
What did he mean by that allusion to widows?
And why had he turned pale--yes, pale--when she announced the Evil One's approaching overthrow?
Miss Marty left him to pick up the pieces, and withdrew in some haste to the kitchen.