He began shoveling dirt over the bodies. The class of guests we have are all permanent, and I am obliged to be very careful indeed. 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. He returned the locket without comment. She looked away. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. CHAPTER XVII. I can’t stand it.
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