But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. Wood, I forget nothing. She forgot her vital hatred of the South Seas; she forgot that McClintock's would not differ a jot from the old island she had for ever left behind her; she forgot all the doctor's lessons and warnings. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. He walked with bent head. "Leave him to me," he said.
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