She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. "That's scarcely a fair question, Mr. Don’t go back into Victorian respectability and pretend you don’t know and you can’t think and all the rest of it. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. And in that respect they stir up one another. "He'll not trouble you on the liquor side, Mac. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. At least—’ ‘Don’t be more of a lunatic than you can help,’ broke in the captain, addressing himself to Melusine.
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