"Probably it is quite true, though that we could never ascertain without visiting the lady's home." "If I could afford it," exclaimed Bastin with rising anger, "I should like to go there and expose this vile traducer of my cloth." "So should I," answered Bickley, "and expose these introducers of consumption, measles and other European diseases, to say nothing of gin, among an innocent and Arcadian people." "How can you call them innocent, Bickley, when they murder and eat missionaries ?" "I dare say we should all eat a missionary, Bastin, if we were hungry enough," was the answer, after which something occurred to change the conversation.
But I kept the book and read it as a neutral observer, and came to the conclusion that these South Sea Islands, a land where it was always afternoon, must be a charming place, in which perhaps the stars of the Tropics and the scent of the flowers might enable one to forget a little, or at least take the edge off memory.

Why should I not visit them and escape another long and dreary English winter?
No, I could not do so alone.

If Bastin and Bickley were there, their eternal arguments might amuse me.

Well, why should they not come also?
When one has money things can always be arranged.
The idea, which had its root in this absurd conversation, took a curious hold on me.

I thought of it all the evening, being alone, and that night it re-arose in my dreams.