His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. “Tut, tut!” he said. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. “What do you think of that?” he asked. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. “How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. ’ Her lashes fluttered. ” He started back as though he had been shot. ” “I understand,” he said, doggedly. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously.
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