Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. The grim mockery of it!—those South Sea loafers, taking advantage of Enschede's Christianity and imposing upon him, accepting his money and medicines and laughing behind his back! No doubt they made the name a byword and a subject for ribald jest in the waterfront bars. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. He laughed once or twice at himself as he paced backwards and forwards. She went to her own table and sat down. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. “Well, what is it?” “Montague Hill is recovering consciousness,” he said. "If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard.
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