"It would avail him little if he did," replied Kneebone. ‘But tell me this instead. Her efforts were vain. . Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. What's this?" he added, stooping to pick up a piece of paper lying at his feet—it was Jonathan's memorandum. The tide'll bring him to us fast enough. ‘Pray you, do me this one little service, and do not ask me why. ” He left her where she was, crying in the doorway. Luck. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. She stood up before him, smiling faintly.
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