“You know very well that she is selfish and pleasure-loving to the backbone. She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very tightly. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. “It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. She could not say a word, much less move. 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. ‘What’s wrong, miss? Ain’t I done right?’ Melusine’s mind was reeling, but she reached out and seized his wrist.
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