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. She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation. She heard the sounds of Rhea scuttling about, and then feeding, brutally. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. ” Her mind went back to that treaty. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind.
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