F. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. There you are, the best client’s chair. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension. The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness. There's my thumb upon it. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance.
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