"What, Derrick Beekman in love with a savage!"
"Well--er--not exactly in the way in which I love you."
"Do you mean to tell me he would fall in love any other way with any respectable woman?" flashed out the girl, changing her tactics to the great bewilderment of the more conventional man.
"Well, I don't wish to say anything about this island person, of course, but--"
"George," said the girl, "she's as beautiful as a dream, much more beautiful than I am."
This was a statement which Harnash could not allow to pass uncontradicted, and he denied it in the most effective way, which interrupted further speech, if only for a moment.
"Nonsense, impossible!" exclaimed he, when the kiss was finished.
"Did you get a glimpse of her?"
"I only saw a limp, drenched figure being hoisted aboard. I noticed she was whiter than the people of the islands we have visited."
"Why, her skin, save for the touch of the sun, is whiter and finer than mine. Her figure, which has obviously never known the restraints of--of--civilization is absolutely perfect. Her hair is like spun gold, and there's enough of it to cover half her beautiful little body."