“They might do you good,” she remarked. Sheppard, with a deep sigh, perceiving that her benefactor hesitated to pronounce the word. “When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. You’ve got to take what you can get. The three of them laughed joyously. She could not say a word, much less move. He was not particularly grateful for the present situation.
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