The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. But Ann Veronica had still to get to her chief topic. The room was intimate and wonderful to her with its shadows now cast over the girlish menagerie of stuffed animals.
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