"Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. She pitted aspirants against each other in any way imaginable, with tests of science, math, and sometimes will alone. Who? Could it be Gerald? Quickly, she looked back at Gosse’s face, and found him frowning. 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. It’s a world in which the law can be a stupid pig and the police-stations dirty dens. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. " "Confusion!" thundered Wild.
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