There was no one at the table who did not realize what, and for whom,
she was waiting. To her primitive spirit, now that she was in trouble
because of him, it seemed inevitable that Orlando should come. One thing
was fixed in her mind: she would never return to Tralee or to the man
whose odious presence made her feel as though she was in a cage with an
animal.
Jonas Billings had called him "The ancient one from the jungle," and that
was how at last he appeared to her. His arms and breast were thick with
hair; the hair on his face grew almost up to the eyes; the fingers of his
splayed hands were blunt and broad; and his hair was like a nest for
things of the jungle undergrowth.
Since she had been awakened, the memory of his hot breath in her face, of
his clumsy fevered embraces was a torment to her; for always in contrast
there were the fresh clean-shaven cheeks and chin of a young Berserker
with honest, wondering blue eyes, the curly head of a child, and body and
limbs like a young lean stag.
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