I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents. 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. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. She was tempted to touch him in the car as they drove to the empty house, but she refrained for fear of causing a car accident. I’ve had a lot on my mind. Gerald reached out a hand to stop her. He pulled away. "You shall not pass," cried several of the crowd. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to.
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