“Now replace the stone, my child. We’ll have some buttered toast. The children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it. “Call me Annabel. “The white unaggressive woman who corrects and nurses and serves, and is worshipped and betrayed—the martyr-queen of men, the white mother. Even the chattering monkeys, parrots, and parrakeets departed the fruit groves for the smelly dark of the jungle. Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds. You’ll never even see me again, for that 268 matter.
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