I could not speak if I had wanted; and if I could, I would not. I
was ashamed to be so much moved about a native, ashamed of the
marriage too, and the certificate she had treasured in her kilt;
and I turned aside and made believe to rummage among my cases. The
first thing I lighted on was a case of gin, the only one that I had
brought; and, partly for the girl's sake, and partly for horror of
the recollections of old Randall, took a sudden resolve. I prized
the lid off. One by one I drew the bottles with a pocket
corkscrew, and sent Uma out to pour the stuff from the verandah.

She came back after the last, and looked at me puzzled like.

"No good," said I, for I was now a little better master of my
tongue. "Man he drink, he no good."

She agreed with this, but kept considering. "Why you bring him?"
she asked presently. "Suppose you no want drink, you no bring him,
I think."

"That's all right," said I. "One time I want drink too much; now
no want. You see, I no savvy I get one little wifie. Suppose I
drink gin, my little wifie he 'fraid."

To speak to her kindly was about more than I was fit for; I had
made my vow I would never let on to weakness with a native, and I
had nothing for it but to stop.

She stood looking gravely down at me where I sat by the open case.
"I think you good man," she said. And suddenly she had fallen