" CHAPTER XI. . As a matter of fact it isn’t their affair. I stubbornly insisted that we wait, and you woke up. Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. It had been very peaceful in the little cave for countless years. I never forgive an injury. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance.
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