“I’m sorry. Sooner or later we’ll certainly do something to clean those prisons you told me about—limewash the underside of life. For a long time he stared at the empty doorway. ’ He regarded her thoughtfully. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. Um. 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. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed.
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