She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. The buboes broke and God took Lucia's mother. To get behind that impenetrable curtain, to learn why she hated her island. E. Giles's bowl, "as his last refreshment on earth. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance.
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