"You're not frightened at flying-foxes, are you ?" Recalled to the fact of his presence, she turned sharply, and flung his arm away as though it had been a snake.

"Don't touch me!" she gasped, passionate loathing in voice and gesture.
"Sorry," said Nick imperturbably.

"I meant well." He began to busy himself with a small bundle that lay upon the ground, whistling softly between his teeth, and for a few seconds Muriel sat and watched him.

He was dressed in a flowing native garment, that covered him from head to foot.

Out of the heavy enveloping folds his smooth, yellow face looked forth, sinister and terrible to her fevered vision.