"One would think you were sick, or bilious, or something.

You don't seem to have an idea in your head above black labour and cocoanuts.

What is the matter ?" Sheldon smiled and beat a further retreat within himself, listening the while to Joan and Tudor propounding the theory of the strong arm by which the white man ordered life among the lesser breeds.

As he listened Sheldon realized, as by revelation, that that was precisely what he was doing.

While they philosophized about it he was living it, placing the strong hand of his race firmly on the shoulders of the lesser breeds that laboured on Berande or menaced it from afar.