_kava_
to drink and cigarettes to smoke. She was glad to have someone to chat
with and while she talked he looked at Sally. She reminded him of the
Psyche in the museum at Naples. Her features had the same dear purity
of line, and though she had borne a child she had still a virginal
aspect.

It was not till he had seen her two or three times that he induced her
to speak. Then it was only to ask him if he had seen in Apia a man
called Red. Two years had passed since his disappearance, but it was
plain that she still thought of him incessantly.

It did not take Neilson long to discover that he was in love with her.
It was only by an effort of will now that he prevented himself from
going every day to the creek, and when he was not with Sally his
thoughts were. At first, looking upon himself as a dying man, he asked
only to look at her, and occasionally hear her speak, and his love gave
him a wonderful happiness. He exulted in its purity. He wanted nothing
from her but the opportunity to weave around her graceful person a web
of beautiful fancies. But the open air, the equable temperature, the
rest, the simple fare, began to have an unexpected effect on his health.
His temperature did not soar at night to such alarming heights, he
coughed less and began to put on weight; six months passed without his
having a haemorrhage; and on a sudden he saw the possibility that he
might live. He had studied his disease carefully, and the hope dawned
upon him that with great care he might arrest its course. It exhilarated
him to look forward once more to the future. He made plans. It was
evident that any active life was out of the question, but he could live
on the islands, and the small income he had, insufficient elsewhere,
would be ample to keep him. He could grow coconuts; that would give him
an occupation; and he would send for his books and a piano; but his
quick mind saw that in all this he was merely trying to conceal from
himself the desire which obsessed him.

He wanted Sally. He loved not only her beauty, but that dim soul which
he divined behind her suffering eyes. He would intoxicate her with his
passion. In the end he would make her forget. And in an ecstasy of
surrender he fancied himself giving her too the happiness which he had
thought never to know again, but had now so miraculously achieved.

He asked her to live with him. She refused. He had expected that and did
not let it depress him, for he was sure that soon