Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto. ’ ‘Are you mad?’ ‘Gerald is convinced there is a secret passage into the house,’ explained Roding. She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights.
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