Part 13 (1/2)
”Was it you that's been hanging around that white fella girl b'long 's eyes to her?”
He crouched like a beast, ferine--all the obscure and diabolic passion of hilared at him steadily
”What did you want of that boat?”
”Me like'ain, plying his billowy silk handkerchief
”The trouble with me--” he said, reflectively, ”I can't believe my own eyes; that's the trouble with me And how could I believe 'es don't happen They can't Why--what kind of a man are you? Black, I believe--leastways brown And she--_she_--
”A Kanaka If not you, then another A Kanaka! To know her, be near her--touch her--play all manner of pretty, cuddlin' tricks around her--to--to kiss her, maybe! To crush her up in his arms--!” The words came away from him hot and slow, from under half-shut eyes ”And I've sat here behind theht crahere her little feet could walk on me
”How should one of your sort have the cursed iot to do with heaven? Could _you_ see anything in that blind-like look sideways--and hair so smooth over the ear? Do you knohat level eyebrows and a fullish underlip mean--hey? Do you? A lip like a drop of blood--
”What did you want that boat for?” he cried, in a terrible voice
”Me like', you don't leave here till I' on I sive up Right now I've got the ets up or doithout ht or ever D'y' mind that, before I screw the thumbs off you to ht, sobbing breath in his gallery, the rattle of his slatted door that brought hi into the darkness he dragged out the eaves-dropper--whose poor knees had siiven like paper, whose desperate effort to save herself had thrown her against the jason ”You--!”
He dropped her by the threshold and started away froers and fallen jaw For a ti filled the silence and the three stayed so, the wo stupidly and Gregson, struck du Without a word he spun on his heel, returned to the table and poured himself a drink and tossed it off
”Respectability!” he said, in the tone of conversation, caught his collar and ripped it loose ”By Heaven!” he cried, and wrung his great hands ”What a to do?”
His wandering glance lighted on the rope's end on the table-top, and he coiled it in his hand He began to walk to and fro before thehastly, his bloodshot blue eyes were set like jewels Now he stopped before Motauri and looked hihter not good to hear: but he left off as quickly He caure on the floor
”And you're the thing that was too good foreach stain and smirch, her disordered dress and loosened hair, and pitiful, staring face
”Well, you're not too good now,” he said, wetting his lips ”No--you're none too good! You'll marry me to-morrow--and you'll crawl on your knees to haveold hypocrite--he'll crawl to make the lines, if I choose
”When I think how I've dreahts of perdition, wanting you--you sweet, cold, white saint you--and a devil after all!
”To think how I've schemed and trembled and trembled and waited, afraid to say a word or make a move lest I'd queer any chance Me--a common trader with a native wife that wouldn't die And you up there on the hill so prihter Too respectable to touch! And what are you now--that's been out in the night--?”
He whirled around and the e and hate rose up in his soul like scuer!” he screath was behind the tiller-rope It slashed Motauri over the face so that the red welt seeled cry Motauri leapt upon hiht baresark, interlocked and silent, spinning froht and the thews and the cunning He kept the other's clutch away froainst it, he put forth a hty effort, tore off Motauri and hurled hirab the revolver