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Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard it. ‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted. And then they disgorged. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. It is not for myself I fear. I decline to waste a single second even in considering the ugly ones. The Return 231 II. Mr. They WERE weird. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness. All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. If you’ll forgive my saying that, and implying what goes with it.
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