I have a hundred of them—mixed blood—on my island, and they are always rooking me. ‘Imbecile. However, it don't signify. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. Wood, who looks after her comforts, and visits her constantly.
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