He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. He felt that he was getting on with her very slowly indeed, but he did not see how he could get on faster. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee.
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