. . He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. Her orgasm began as an insistent throb. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own.
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