" "I know what is good," she replied. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. Easy enough. When she came to, she was lying with her head in Martha’s lap, and a livid bruise was forming at the point of a raging headache. ‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. He pushed her small hand into his jeans. 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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