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you. Biddies. Remember, tear up her sheet. She's guilty of murder.'
     
    'Oh, aye, Mr. Haggard.' But Biddies looked worried. 'You'll be careful, Mr. Haggard. Tom just took to his bunk and died.' 'I'll remember that,' Haggard said. 'Stand up. Emma.' The girl gazed at him.
    'Stand up,' Haggard said. 'Or you'll be dragged,'
    She seemed to consider the threat, then she stood up.
    'Walk in front of me,' Haggard said. 'Over there,' He pointed with his crop at the more open space of Broad Street, where the kittareen—a small two-wheeled vehicle, with two seats, beside each other, and a single horse—was already waiting.
    Emma Dearborn walked through the crowd. They parted before her, both because they saw Haggard behind her, but also, he thought, because a second glance made them wish to look a third time.
    'Are you a lord?' she asked. Haggard was surprised. Her voice was low, with just a trace of a north country accent.
     
    ‘I’m better than a lord.' he said. ‘I’m John Haggard. Get up.' ‘I’m to ride beside you?'
     
    Haggard nodded. The girl grasped the side of the equipage, put up one leg. Haggard watched the skirt fall away, watched the muscles ripple in the thigh, watched the veins suddenly stand out on her neck, realised that she was desperately weak with cramp and hunger. He gripped her thighs, lifted her effortlessly from the ground. Her head turned, sharply, then looked away again, and she sat down. Haggard tied the mare's reins to the back of the kittareen, sat down himself, nodded to the Negro who held the bridle. The whip flicked, and the equipage bumped up the street towards the green hills beyond.
    Haggard looked at the girl. She gazed around her with interest, the more so as windows were opening to allow people, mainly other women, to stare at her. She made several attempts to straighten her gown, to conceal her legs . There was breeding locked away in there. Haggard realised. But it was not a subject to be purs ued. She was there to amuse him, to remove the canker gnawing at his mind. He could not permit her to exist, as a person.
    The houses thinned, and they were in the open air. Ahead of them lay the sea of waving cane which was the wealth of the island,
     
    'Captain said I'd be hanged,' Emma said. 'I changed his mind for him." Haggard said. They exchanged quick glances, and she looked away again. Haggard realised his entire body was a swollen mass of desire; he could not recall being in such a state before in his life, even on his wedding night. But it was almost a pleasure to feel that way, to feel the passion growing, to know that it was going to be assuaged, the very moment he was ready.
     
    'Sugar cane,' she said. They told me about sugar cane.' She looked up at the sun; it was nearly noon, and she wore no hat. But already Haggard's was in sight. Emma stared around her in wonderment, as they rumble d down the drive, as the mastiff s came out to bark and frolic, as the black men hurried forward to hold the reins, and as she slowly took in the size of the Great House rising above them.
    'Mr. John.' James Middlesex hurried down the steps. 'Oh, Mr. John, but we is too glad to have you back.' There were tears in his eyes.
    'It's good to be back,' Haggard said, and squeezed the black man's hand. 'Where is Annie Kent? ’ 'She there, Mr. John. She there.'
    For all the house slaves were gathered on the verandah by the pantry.
    'Annie,' Haggard said. This girl needs a bath. And then food. Take her upstairs and get her clean, then allow her to eat with me.'
    'Yes, sir. Mr. John.' Annie Kent could size up the situation at a glance. 'You coming, child?'
    Emma hesitated, gave Haggard a quick glance, and received a nod. She climbed down, all but fell, then recovered her strength and went up the steps. Haggard got down more slowly, followed. He stood in the hallway, watched the two women disappearing on the gallery above his head, now surrounded by several other upstairs maids. He inhaled. He stood once again