A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. 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. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. ’ ‘But he gives them to me. “How old are you?\" He looked at her engagingly. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead.
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