Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. 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. You’ll have to go back to Remenham House. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. We had not then recovered from the shock. It had been a big event for teens across town.
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