They were the only real marriages she had seen clearly. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. That was life. There was a gallows erected, and a great mob round it—thousands of people, and all with white faces like corpses. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. Then she went into the office. It was a tale of battle, murder, and sudden death on the New York waterfront. ’ He thought Roding gave him an odd look, but his next question was already in his head.
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