“You ought at once—you ought at once to have told her that. He was speechless. “If I was the world I think I should have put down a crimson carpet, and asked you to say what you wanted, and generally walk over me. A check arrives in Batavia every three months. Only in the sunshine; they would not answer my whistle on cloudy days. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. Wanting his coat, when he must have known that the pockets were empty! But the effort to talk had cost him something. For a time I didn't know we'd ever find you.
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