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. III. Ten thousand islands, and each one good for a night's rest. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. 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. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. White——” “No more,” Sydney Courtlaw begged, laughingly. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about. Marthe has told me that the house comes to my mother, Ma—ry Re—men—ham. ” There was a moment’s silence.
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