There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. 59 He was not present during the night the next morning, or the next, or the next. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. . She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash.
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