"Why do you speak of it—why do you say any more about it?" she cried fretfully. "My worst anticipations have been realized—that's all! I might have known he would have fooled me. Yes, I repeat it, fooled me."
"But you were so certain he was dead!"
"I was certain I saw him lying dead in his bunk, if that's what you mean." Then with a sudden outburst of fury, "Marcos Veneda, as God is above me, if I can find you, I'll punish you for this!"
"Marcos Veneda! I thought you said he was an Englishman?"
"So he was. Veneda was only an assumed name."
Seeing her state, I decided not to say anything about our position towards each other until she was calmer.
"And what do you wish me to do now?" I asked, to turn the conversation into another channel. "Shall I make a course back to Thursday Island?"
"No, no, anywhere but there."
"Then where would you like to go? Say the word, and I swear I'll do my best to oblige you."
"Oh, anywhere, anywhere. Why do you bother me with your stupid questions?—what does it matter now where I go?"