She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. "And equally easy to prove it," replied Jack, giving him the paper he had abstracted from Wild. . She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky.
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