‘But you know everything now,’ protested Hilary, keeping pace as Gerald took the stairs two at a time. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. All the precious paintings and statues of the divine family were here, as was the enormous wooden crucifix set above the altar. “Hand me the Jergens lotion, will you? How’d it go with John?” She asked. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is.
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