She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. She was looking anxiously at the entrance to the restaurant. They order me to get my man, and I get him. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. Yes, yes, there is no doubt about it. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. 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. " Which was literally the truth.
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