They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road. Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water. A native sold his supply of nuts in exchange for cloth, tobacco and so forth. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do.
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