They vanished through the doorway. She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. A small voice greeted her, hissing. She saw it, and checked without thinking. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. “Thought so. “A young man comes into life asking how best he may place himself,” Ramage had said; “a woman comes into life thinking instinctively how best she may give herself.
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