‘And it is me you dare accuse? It is yourself you should arrest. ’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence. 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. Now, for the cage, my pretty canary-bird. God only knows what I have done, or left undone. She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out.
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