When we went on, the next day, I tried to give out my dictation in a slower manner, to conserve Marjorie's force, but it was a difficult thing to do. Her speed was naturally great and I had got into the habit of speaking in much my ordinary manner. She told me twenty times that I might dictate more rapidly, and her fingers flew over the keys at a speed that astonished me. All she would consent to do was to let me order a glass of wine, from which she sipped occasionally. She declared that my "novel" was so diverting that she was anxious to get as far along as possible.
The description of my games of cards with Edgerly caused her to have frequent recourse to the wine, but the meeting with Eggert and his family came to relieve the strain. She grew uneasy again when I told of sitting by her bed and bathing her forehead; and reddened like a peony when I remarked how lovely she appeared in her bathing costume that morning we took our first bath on the beach of the Quarantine Station.
"Must you put in such things as that?" she asked, pleadingly. "I think it spoils what was getting to be a very entertaining story."
"I can leave out nothing," I answered. "Really, Marjorie, you cannot conceive how rapturously beautiful—"
She shivered as if a cold wind had blown on her.
"Are you dictating?" she asked. "I think we had best keep to the text."
"Then do not attempt to go outside your path and province," I said. "Once more, this is my story, not yours, remember. Here is something that will interest you."
I gave her the concluding paragraph of that chapter—the one recording the sudden and unexpected appearance of Mr. Wesson.
She went on very quietly after that, though the frequent allusions to my growing affection disturbed her visibly.
Every evening after our work we went for a drive. On most of these occasions we met somewhere on the road a blue-eyed man and a brown-eyed woman, riding in a cart, drawn by two horses, hitched tandem. I often wonder what has become of them; whether they have decided to go through the world tandem—one in front of the other—or side by side, as I used to see them there. Sometimes they rode bicycles, which they handled equally well. When the darkness settled their lamps were lit, according to the local laws, and the lanterns looked like fireflies as they spun along the hard roads. Perhaps that is what Froude saw which made him say in his book that there are fireflies in Barbados—who can tell? The woman was rather handsome, with a well rounded form, and a mouth made for kisses, though she assured me once that none had ever rested there. If true, it is a sad case of luscious fruit going to waste on a tree well worth climbing.