The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. Almost had Martha won out. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. And then I came here. ‘Seems to me like you know just about as much as me. “I’m not so sure. Forthwith he presented his card. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. I am sorry, but you have spoilt me. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. ‘You are there.
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