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"I know thy meaning now. But surely this mean-faced missionary is not to be compared to thee! Kesta, 'tis the fair-faced woman that is in thy mind. Be it as you will. Yet I knew not that the customs of thy land were like unto ours." "What the devil is she driving at!" thought Chester, utterly failing to grasp her meaning. Early next morning Tulpe was gone. "Deny it not, white woman.
And Tulpé came over to him and leant upon his shoulder. "Is it in thy mind to see and talk with the new missionary and his wife?" "No," said Chester promptly; "sit thou here, wood-pigeon, and tell me of the customs I read of here." She sat down beside him, and leant her dark head against his knee, fanning herself the while she answered his questions. "As it was then, Kesta, so is it now.
"Huh!" said Tulpe, Chester's native wife, whipping off her muslin gown and tossing it aside, as she lay back and cooled her heated face and bared bosom with a fan, "'tis hot, Kesta, and the sun was balanced in the middle of the sky when we left Jakoits in the boat, and now 'tis all but night; and wind there was none, so we used not the sail."
When he returned to Ponapé he simply forgot all about her and Tulpé never asked him inconsiderate questions about other women whom he might have met during the six months he was away from her. He had come back that was all she cared for. "I wonder how Tulpe would take it if she knew?" he thought. "She might turn out a bit of a tiger." "What are thy thoughts, Kesta?"
"Foolish creature," said Chester, again taking up his book, "and merely to see this new white missionary woman thou wilt let the sun bake thy hands and feet black." Handsome, black-browed Tulpé flashed her white, even teeth as she smiled. "Nay, but listen, Kesta. Such a woman as this one never have I seen. Her skin is white and gleaming as the inside of the pearl-shell.
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