She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. After he had eaten dinner with Ruth, he had gone to McClintock's; and he had heard music such as he had heard only in the great concert halls. She was only trying to distract you so that she might escape. . He still watched her and questioned her. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. A very small settlement, mostly natives.
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