"Why, it's just this. You should be planning to leave this
country."
Miss Brewster bewailed her harsh lot with drooping lip.
"Every one wants to drive me away!"
"Who else?"
"That railroad man, Mr. Galpy, was offering us special inducements
to leave, in the form of special trains any time we liked. It
isn't hospitable."
"A jail is hospitable. But one doesn't stay in it when one can get
out."
"If Caracuna were the jail and I the 'one,' one might. I quite
love it here."
He made a sharp gesture of annoyance.
"Don't be childish," he said.
"Childish? You come down like Freedom from the mountain heights,
and unfurl your warnings to the air, and complain of lost time and
all that sort of thing, and what does it all amount to?" she
demanded, with spirit. "That we should sail away, when you know
perfectly well that the Dutch won't let us sail away! Childish,
indeed! Don't you be BEETLISH!"
"There's a way out, without much risk, but some discomfort. You
could strike south-east to the Bird Reefs, take a small boat, and
get over to the mainland. As soon as the blockade is off, the
yacht can take your luggage around.
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