She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. Move. To-morrow I am going to Paris. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. She remembered Taber's hat.
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