We were to ransom you, then we would fake your death, play as if the kidnappers had executed you. “It may be more difficult than you think,” she said. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings.
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