In a moment, Roding and Lucilla joined him. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. "Otherwise you will not get your morning's sleep. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. The intensity of the eyes and the defiant tone bewildered the doctor, who found his well-constructed jeremiad without a platform.
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