"You want me, then?" she said. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. See what you have made of me. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. Well, my friend found us out, and would give no quarter. Would that a certain major might cast upon her such a look. I'll tell you what. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. Men are against her. 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. “Are you looking for Mike? He’s working. ‘Did she call you that?’ asked Lucilla, amused. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome.
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