She let out a wail. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!…. “One can’t tell. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted.
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