Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. Occasionally he relit his pipe. 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. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. Man or woman.
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