She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. He saw the flames burst from the windows, and perhaps in that maddening spectacle suffered torture equivalent to some of the crimes he had committed. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. 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. But I do not know you at all, in truth, and I do not understand why you do this. I'm likely to get up any time in the night to work. “Who?” She asked.
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