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A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. This was just what he needed. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. A fierce struggle ensued. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. ’ He sat up. I need not counsel you to avoid those fatal courses which have placed you in such fearful jeopardy. Even in her hatred, she began to realize that Sebastian’s intelligence was much greater than Gianfrancesco’s. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. “My word holds,” she said.
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