e
of her than when he had first seen her bathing in the pool. He had an
uneasy feeling that she was concealing something from him, and because
he adored her it tortured him.

"You don't regret Apia, do you?" he asked her once.

"Oh, no--I think it's very nice here."

An obscure misgiving drove him to make disparaging remarks about the
island and the people there. She smiled and did not answer. Very rarely
she received a bundle of letters from Samoa and then she went about for
a day or two with a set, pale face.

"Nothing would induce me ever to go back there," he said once. "It's no
place for a white man."

But he grew conscious that sometimes, when he was away, Ethel cried. In
Apia she had been talkative, chatting volubly about all the little
details of their common life, the gossip of the place; but now she
gradually became silent, and, though he increased his efforts to amuse
her, she remained listless. It seemed to him that her recollections of
the old life were drawing her away from him, and he was madly jealous of
the island and of the sea, of Brevald, and all the dark-skinned people
whom he remembered now with horror. When she spoke of Samoa he was
bitter and satirical. One evening late in the spring when the birch
trees were bursting into leaf, coming home from a round of golf, he
found her not as usual lying on the sofa, but at the window, standing.
She had evidently been waiting for his return. She addressed him the
moment he came into the room. To his amazement she spoke in Samoan.

"I can't stand it. I can't live here any more. I hate it. I hate it."

"For God's sake speak in a civilised language," he said irritably.

She went up to him and clasped her arms around his body awkwardly, with
a gesture that had in it something barbaric.

"Let's go away from here. Let's go back to Samoa. If you make me stay
here I shall die. I want to go home."

Her passion broke suddenly and she burst into tears. His anger vanished
and he drew her down on his knees. He explained to her that it was
impossible for him to throw up his job, which after all meant his bread
and butter. His place in Apia was long since filled. He had nothing to
go back to there. He tried to put it to her reasonably, the
inconveniences of life there, the humiliation to which they must be
exposed, and the bitterness it must cause their son.

"Scotland's wonderful for education and that sort of thing. Schools are
good and cheap, and he can go