***** Coconuts grew perpetually. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things.
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