For she knew that whatever the tumult or contest that might be taking place within the high-walled arena of his own Ego, it was a clash of forces of which she must remain merely a spectator.

So she went below, leaving him in that hour of passive yet troubled thought, to stare up at the tranquil southern stars, as he meditated on life, and the meaning of life, and what lay beyond it all.

She knew men and the world too well to look for any sudden and sweeping reorganization of Durkin's disturbed and restless mind.

But she nursed the secret hope that out of that spiritual ferment would come some ultimate clearness of vision.
It was late when he called her up on deck again, ostensibly to catch a glimpse of Vesuvius breaking and bursting into flame, above _Barra_ and _Portici_.

She knew, however, that slumbering and subterranean fires other than Vesuvius had erupted into light and life.