Why don’t you go in? Charvill is there. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. ‘Yes, miss. " The prison bars of circumstance, they no longer encompassed her. Little by little, she stopped hating him. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. It throbs cruelly. But the sheer tenacity of the girl defeated him. To preach a fine sermon every Sunday so that he would lose neither the art nor the impulse; and this child, in secret rebellion, taking it down in long hand during odd hours in the week! Preaching grandiloquently before a few score natives who understood little beyond the gestures, for the single purpose of warding off disintegration! It reminded the doctor of a stubborn retreat; from barricade to barricade, grimly fighting to keep the enemy at bay, that insidious enemy of the white man in the South Seas—inertia.
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