“Bring me what there is,” he requested bluntly. And asked her where she kept his shirts.
“Ferd,”—she faltered a little. “You’re so brusque this morning.... Don’t you—” and she indicated her finery with a hesitating gesture. “I bought it because you said this is your favourite colour....”
He paused in the energetic process of dressing and looked at her squarely, yet at the same time without full attention. “Yes, I do like it. It’s a dream.” And, since she still hesitated, evidently perplexed and a little confounded, King laughed with affectionate loudness and said: “Come here, lady-bird, and I’ll make a fuss over you. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you look good enough to eat! Give me a kiss.”
He gathered her up and hugged her.
II
When her husband had gone, looking very handsome and magnetic in his white clothes and a stiff tropical hat, Stella sat a little time at the doorstep, musing, letting her mind drift on an undercurrent of vague debate. She idly watched some dusky southern moths floating about a patch of dull orange fungus in the brooding dimness of the jungle. Her thoughts, unformed and roaming, were faintly sombre. She remembered her haunting dream, so sharply broken by the cry of the bird, and seemed again to see the ship sailing in toward her; she wondered whether any ships did ever pass within range of the island. Presently, with a little sigh, she got up and went into the house. She took off her finery and laid it away, putting on in its stead one of the sturdy house dresses Maud had made up on the same pattern she used herself.
At first, as her hands were thrust into that familiar and essentially unromantic element known in everyday parlance as dish water, Stella mused with another thoughtful sigh: “Here I am again...!” Yet in the very act of hurrying through all such drudgery to have it out of the way, she realized that when the housework was finished there would be absolutely nothing to do until it was time to prepare luncheon. Her life seemed suddenly so packed with hours, so freighted with brooding silence.... “I must make a point of using all the dishes I can at every meal,” she laughed softly. The stillness, rendered poignant by the droning of wild bees and a dainty ambient rustle of fern, pressed against her heart.
This morning she was unusually thorough. Capable Maud, with memories of past shirking, would open her eyes indeed could she look in at this marvel of housewifery. The dishes out of the way, Stella turned quite happily to her sweeping, singing a little as she worked. The broom had been one of Captain Utterbourne’s poetic foresights....
Her task was broken in upon by a faint and very deferential tap. She opened the door and on the threshold beheld Tsuda, standing in a humble posture, hat in hand, and murmuring: “Good morning.” He bowed low as he spoke, and subtly shook his head a little, as though to emphasize his acute humility.