" "Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm," rejoined Jackson. To her consternation, the sound drew her great-aunt’s attention and she threw out a hand. . “And where are YOU going?” he said. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. " "How so?" asked Thames. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind.
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