" Mrs. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. ” “Ay,” he repeated, looking away from her. You know my fixed determination. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. ” Her hand hung over the side of her chair nearest to him. ” There was a long silence. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him.
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