” Her mind drifted into a speculation about her sister. “So far you’ve got me and I you. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. It clicked and the bookshelf was once more intact. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. “For Heaven’s sake, no,” she answered quickly. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. E.
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