"'Who is there?' said his mother.
"'It is I, Shoan.'
"'No (you are not). Shoan died with his father on the sea.'
"'Look at my face. I am Shoan, your son.'
"He came up into the house. When they heard (about it) all the people (of the village) came. They asked many questions and Shoan answered. He told the story about the whale, and the story of his marriage with Giri. The people laughed and said he was telling lies. Shoan got so angry. He ran away with the looking-glass. The people went after him and speared him, and thus killed Shoan.
"Giri stops in the sea near the coral banks, and she sings and calls. In the night, when the moon is high, fishermen hear a sound like singing and crying of a woman. They ask other people (about it) and wonder, for they do not know (about) Giri. Giri will not return alone (that is why) she sings and calls out, 'Come (back), Shoan! Come back, Shoan....'"
Ferlie used to love to think she could hear the voice of Giri, crying loudest when the nights were happiest, since the Grey Lady of Sorrow loves best to walk in quiet places which have once known laughter and love.
She and Cyprian lingered after the tale was finished and the children in bed, dreamily feeding the red heap of dying logs with grass and leaves and rousing little spurts of angry blue flame.
To them came Jellybrand to crouch, rather exhaustedly Ferlie thought, in the violet shadow; his chin thrust forward; his thin shoulders hunched.
"It is difficult," he said presently, "to know quite how to act when immorality creeps unexpectedly into my small garden."