Why should he care for her? he demanded of himself angrily. She was
certainly the last woman in the world he would have thought of choosing
for himself. Never had he encountered one who had so thoroughly
irritated him, rasped his feelings, smashed his conventions, and violated
nearly every attribute of what had been his ideal of woman. Had he been
too long away from the world? Had he forgotten what the race of women
was like? Was it merely a case of propinquity? And she wasn't really a
woman. She was a masquerader. Under all her seeming of woman, she was a
boy, playing a boy's pranks, diving for fish amongst sharks, sporting a
revolver, longing for adventure, and, what was more, going out in search
of it in her whale-boat, along with her savage islanders and her bag of
sovereigns. But he loved her--that was the point of it all, and he did
not try to evade it. He was not sorry that it was so. He loved her--that
was the overwhelming, astounding fact.
Once again he discovered a big enthusiasm for Berande. All the bubble-
illusions concerning the life of the tropical planter had been pricked by
the stern facts of the Solomons. Following the death of Hughie, he had
resolved to muddle along somehow with the plantation; but this resolve
had not been based upon desire.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178