cred ground that said to her:
Return! She was of all human beings the most lonely. Even now,
during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the
island was repellent. She hated it, she hated the mission-house;
she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. But some
day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on
the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her
face. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy
apples and flurries of snow.

"The poor young man!" she said.

The doctor sensed that his bolt had gone wrong, but he could not
tell how or why. He dared not go on. He was not sure that the boy
had put himself beyond the pale; merely, the boy's actions pointed
that way. If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and
in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the
witless cruelty of the act.

That night in his den he smoked many pipes. Twice he cleaned the
old briar; still there was no improvement. He poured a pinch of
tobacco into his palm and sniffed. The weed was all right. Probably
something he had eaten. He was always forgetting that his tummy was
fifty-four years old.

He would certainly welcome McClintock's advent. Mac would have some
new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. He
was a comforting, humorous old ruffian; but there were few men in
the Orient more deeply read in psychology and physiognomy. It was,
in a way, something of a joke to the doctor: psychology and
physiognomy on an island which white folks did not visit more than
three or four times a year, only then when they had to. Why did the
beggar hang on down there, when he could have enjoyed all that
civilization had to offer? Yes, he would be mighty glad to see
McClintock; and the sooner he came the better.

Sometimes at sea a skipper will order his men to trim, batten down
the hatches, and clear the deck of all litter. The barometer says
nothing, neither the sky nor the water; the skipper has the "feel"
that out yonder there's a big blow moving. Now the doctor had the
"feel" that somewhere ahead lay danger. It was below consciousness,
elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively.

* * * * *

At the end of each day Ah Cum would inquire as to the progress of
the patient, and invariably the answer was: "About the same." This
went on for ten days. Then Ah Cum was notified that