His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. It doesn't matter that you deal with black people. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. Tell me, Sir," she added, with forced calmness, and grasping Wood's arm; "what has Jack done? Tell me in a word, that I may know the worst. So, let's think no more about it. I don't want her hurt. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. "The natives have foolish ways of saying things. I like the way you shared it. He worried me to marry him. She would ignore him.
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