Mind you don't stir till supper's over. Once a thriving town before the Pestilence, most of the buildings and the piers had been destroyed or burned. ‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. To preach a fine sermon every Sunday so that he would lose neither the art nor the impulse; and this child, in secret rebellion, taking it down in long hand during odd hours in the week! Preaching grandiloquently before a few score natives who understood little beyond the gestures, for the single purpose of warding off disintegration! It reminded the doctor of a stubborn retreat; from barricade to barricade, grimly fighting to keep the enemy at bay, that insidious enemy of the white man in the South Seas—inertia. \" His brown eyes were tired and full of concern. He resented being regarded as irregular.
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