"Oh, it's beautiful!" said Mary. "I wanted so much to sit quietly and talk to you. It seems so long, and you looked so wild and different this morning. I've been so frightened, reading so much about the natives murdering people."
Mary was different too, but Jack didn't know wherein.
"I don't believe there's much more danger in one place than in another," he said, "so long as you keep yourself in hand. Shall we sit down and have a real wongie?"
They found a seat under the overspreading tree, and sat listening to the night-insects.
"You're not very glad to be back, are you?" asked Mary.
"Yes I am," he assented, without a great deal of vigour. "What has been happening to you all this time, Mary?"
"The little things that are nothing," she said. "The only thing"—she hesitated—"is that they want me to marry. And I lie awake at night wondering about it."
"Marry who?" asked Jack, his mind running at once to Rackett.
They were sitting under a magnolia tree. Jack could make out the dark shape of a great flower against the moon, among black leaves. And the perfume was magnolia flowers.
"Do you want me to talk about it?" she said.