’ ‘Why not?’ Gerald asked straightly. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. But if I painted her as I'd like to, the natives would instantly distrust me; and I'd have to build up confidence all over again. .
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