Then, slowly and heavily, she
dragged herself up the lower ledges to the little plateau where her
clothes were.
Julie had sat revolving grim schemes in that black head of hers.
She hated the girl. She hated Gard. She hated Sark and every one in it.
Why had she ever come into these outer wilds? She would have done with
it all and get away back to the life that was more to her taste.
But first--yes, mon Dieu, she would leave them something to remember her
by.
She had not a doubt that Gard was still on L'Etat. Nothing else would
take this girl across there. The shameless hussy!--to go swimming across
to see her man with nothing but a white shift on!
She could wound Gard through Nance. She could wound Nance through Gard.
She could wait for the girl as she came up the side of the Head, and
push her down again or crush her with a lump of rock.
But that might mean reprisals on the part of the Islanders. She had had
experience of the way in which they resented any ill done to one of
their number by an outsider. She had no wish to join Gard on his rock.
It would be better to hold the girl up to the scorn and contempt of the
neighbours; that would punish her.
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