"To shoot you would be to lose the reward. But the indecision, which had been fatal to his race, was fatal to him. Her heart in her mouth, she heard his foot scrape on the floorboard and knew from his expression that Gosse had heard it too. " "I'll bet she still smells to heaven with sour coconut. To preach a fine sermon every Sunday so that he would lose neither the art nor the impulse; and this child, in secret rebellion, taking it down in long hand during odd hours in the week! Preaching grandiloquently before a few score natives who understood little beyond the gestures, for the single purpose of warding off disintegration! It reminded the doctor of a stubborn retreat; from barricade to barricade, grimly fighting to keep the enemy at bay, that insidious enemy of the white man in the South Seas—inertia.
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