"
Sheldon could not conceal the shock her words gave him.
"You don't mean that, you know," he pleaded.
"I do; I really do. I am sick and tired of this protection dodge. Don't
forget for a moment that I am perfectly able to take care of myself.
Besides, I have eight of the best protectors in the world--my sailors."
"You should have lived a thousand years ago," he laughed, "or a thousand
years hence. You are very primitive, and equally super-modern. The
twentieth century is no place for you."
"But the Solomon Islands are. You were living like a savage when I came
along and found you--eating nothing but tinned meat and scones that would
have ruined the digestion of a camel. Anyway, I've remedied that; and
since we are to be partners, it will stay remedied. You won't die of
malnutrition, be sure of that."
"If we enter into partnership," he announced, "it must be thoroughly
understood that you are not allowed to run the schooner. You can go down
to Sydney and buy her, but a skipper we must have--"
"At so much additional expense, and most likely a whisky-drinking,
irresponsible, and incapable man to boot. Besides, I'd have the business
more at heart than any man we could hire. As for capability, I tell you
I can sail all around the average broken captain or promoted able seaman
you find in the South Seas.
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