I was let alone.

The world could still be peopled; even Solon Denney might survive a little time, for another picture in the same geography now reproduced itself in my inflamed mind--the picture of a South Sea island, a sandy beach with a few indolent natives lolling, negligent of tasks, in the shade of cocoanut palms.

Here, on the outer reef, I wrecked an excellent steamship.

Over the rail sprang a stalwart lad, not out of his teens, with a lovely golden-haired girl in his arms.

With strong, swift strokes, he struck out for the beach, notwithstanding his burden.