Man may not be an automaton worked by environment, all the same he is the slave of environment, and never such a slave as when his environment is that of high Civilisation.
For there the pure motives of the mind have ever to be regulated and falsified, the heart crushed, the face veiled.
To break with all that falsity means shipwreck.
“Which way does the sea lie?” asked the girl. Raft turned to the left as though the smell of the sea were leading him.
“I’m glad to be out of there,” said he, “I was near smothered in that place.”
“So was I,” said she, “did that man bring you your food all right?”
“Another chap brought it,” said Raft, “a Dutchman.”
She laughed.
“Do you know what I was thinking?” said she.
“I was thinking of the time you brought me food when I was nearly dying. You didn’t tell a Dutchman to bring it. I’d have brought you your food myself and we would have had it together only I had to talk to those people. Well, I’ve got rid of them. How would you like to live always in a place like that hotel?”