2. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Not many years ago, two men, employed on this duty, quarrelled during the night, and in the morning their bodies were found stretched upon the pavement of the yard beneath. I never hunt the human tiger without being armed. Out of sight of that tell-tale window, the two officers darted across the grounds, speedily gaining the lee of the mansion walls. 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. ” Annabel’s hand stole into his. .
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