’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. Section 3. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. It saved me the bother of being studied.
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