Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life. "Thank you; but I've a pocket full of water-chestnuts. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. If I were to marry you now I should feel a dependent being all my life—a sort of parasitical creature without blood or muscle. She saw his face change, how he regretted. The place to which you went was not the English Embassy, and the whole performance was a fraud.
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