She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. 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. I must have something in hand. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke.
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