Some weeks later the adventurers had proceeded as far as Tahiti, encountering little notable resistance from the elements, and were coming, one and all, to feel like thorough-going mariners.
On a day when the sun was bright and the shadows were long and cool, Jerome and Lili sat smoking cigarettes together in the lounging room of the hotel. She was sitting in the chair recently vacated by the Tahiti broker, who had done as well in the matter of cargo as mortal man could do, received his modest fees, and had been telling Jerome tales of Tahitian life and saying good-bye over some glasses of rum. The broker was gone now, and Lili had crept in. She had begged Jerome to sit down again, and had asked for a cigarette. Then, quite without warning, she had burst into tears—and this is where the curtain really rises.
Jerome looked at her in bewilderment. “Lili!” he cried. “What’s happened?”
Shutters were drawn to keep out the glare, and the whole town seemed sleeping.
“I can’t stand it any longer, Jerry!” she sobbed desperately, but in a very little, tear-drenched voice.
“Tell me what it is, Lili,” he begged, going round beside her and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Oh, Jerry!”
“Don’t cry any more, but just try to tell me what it is. I know I can help you, whatever the trouble is.” Yes, he was making progress!
She shook her head miserably. With a quick movement she drew his head down and whispered. He drew back with a little start, and from the look on his face it was very apparent they had come to a crisis in their relationship.