I sat within a few feet of him. "Oh! Sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a continuance of misery. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and everything was delicious. That would be an unkind twist of fate. Why, there was drama in the very dress she wore! There was drama in the unusual beauty of her, hidden away all these years on a forgotten isle! "You've been lonely, too. " Romance! The Seven Seas are hers. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear.
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