” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. CHAPTER XVIII. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes. I’m not such a bad sort. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat.
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