Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. ” He took a seat by her side. She was quite tired of the stream of visitors and heard with relief the words of her newfound great-aunt, addressed to her son’s butler. ” She said, searching for her brassiere under his bed. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. But Sheppard took no notice of the exclamation. . His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness.
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