He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. But they did not know how good she was, how perfect she was. It was as much accident as anything, but she had killed him. She limited herself to eating once a fortnight, until she discovered that she could go without comfortably for a month. You cannot arrest yourself. 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.
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