“Why not?” He asked. Capes flashed to an understanding of her intention, sprang to his feet, and opened the door for her retreat. ‘Wait a minute, though. “You are not content then with stealing from me my name. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. She had come across the wicked South Seas which were still infested with cannibals; she had seen drunkenness and called men beachcombers; who was this moment as innocent as a babe, and in the next uttered some bitter wisdom it had taken a thousand years of philosophy to evolve. Everyone has gone away again, so that I can do so all alone. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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