She felt herself shaking again. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. 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. "What's this here kinchen in for?" asked Terence, as he and Quilt strode along, with Thames between them. And now, only twenty-four hours behind him … that is, if he wasn't paddling by on the return route to Hong-Kong or had dropped down to Macao.
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