I says them gloating-like, in my head--'Blooming' I
says, and 'All my eye,' and 'Ginger,' and 'Nothink'; and all the
time we was being wrecked I was praying to myself, 'Please the Lord
it may be an island as it's natural to be vulgar on.'
(A shudder passes through CRICHTON, and she is abject.)
That's the kind I am, sir. I'm 'opeless. You'd better give me up.
(She is a pathetic, forlorn creature, and his manhood is stirred.)
CRICHTON (wondering a little at himself for saying it). I won't give
you up. It is strange that one so common should attract one so
fastidious; but so it is. (Thoughtfully.) There is something about
you, Tweeny, there is a je ne sais quoi about you.
TWEENY (knowing only that he has found something in her to commend).
Is there, is there? Oh, I am glad.
CRICHTON (putting his hand on her shoulder like a protector). We
shall fight your vulgarity together. (All this time he has been
arranging sticks for his fire.) Now get some dry grass. (She brings
him grass, and he puts it under the sticks.
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