” Diane gave permission quickly, evidently glad to get the girls out of the house. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. . "The poor young man!" she said. 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. ‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. We come out into the world, some of us—” She paused.
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