"Weigh anchor, Van!" he shouted to the skipper, "and consult your despatches. It throbs cruelly. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. He had conveyed it to her, not verbally, but by means of a letter, which seemed to her a singularly ignoble method of prohibition. Ah! but you can’t imagine what you are to me and what you mean to me! I suppose there is something mystical and wonderful about all women.
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