" "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. ’ ‘You ain’t never!’ ‘Back to your post, Trodger,’ ordered the harassed captain. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. I even offered him back the half interest he had sold to me. ’ A hand seemed to grip in Melusine’s chest and she hit out. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century. To preach a fine sermon every Sunday so that he would lose neither the art nor the impulse; and this child, in secret rebellion, taking it down in long hand during odd hours in the week! Preaching grandiloquently before a few score natives who understood little beyond the gestures, for the single purpose of warding off disintegration! It reminded the doctor of a stubborn retreat; from barricade to barricade, grimly fighting to keep the enemy at bay, that insidious enemy of the white man in the South Seas—inertia. Such freedoms from such people were not to be endured. ” “But how?” He was, she thought, a little too insistent. She met him by the dugout after the game. On the other hand, there was a subconscious impression that she would be able to read instantly anything unclean in a man's eye.
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