"You tell me true? You like me stop?" she asked.

"Uma," I said, "I would rather have you than all the copra in the
South Seas," which was a very big expression, and the strangest
thing was that I meant it.

She threw her arms about me, sprang close up, and pressed her face
to mine in the island way of kissing, so that I was all wetted with
her tears, and my heart went out to her wholly. I never had
anything so near me as this little brown bit of a girl. Many
things went together, and all helped to turn my head. She was
pretty enough to eat; it seemed she was my only friend in that
queer place; I was ashamed that I had spoken rough to her: and she
was a woman, and my wife, and a kind of a baby besides that I was
sorry for; and the salt of her tears was in my mouth. And I forgot
Case and the natives; and I forgot that I knew nothing of the
story, or only remembered it to banish the remembrance; and I
forgot that I was to get no copra, and so could make no livelihood;
and I forgot my employers, and the strange kind of service I was
doing them, when I preferred my fancy to their business; and I
forgot even that Uma was no true wife of mine, but just a maid
beguiled, and that in a pretty shabby style. But that is to look
too far on. I will come to that part of it next.

It was late before we thought of getting dinner. The stove was
out, and gone stone-cold; but we fired up after a while, and cooked
each a dish, helping and hindering each other, and making a play of
it like children. I was so greedy of her nearness that I sat down
to dinner with my lass upon my knee, made sure of her with one
hand, and ate with the other. Ay, and more than that. She was the