” He smiled, and she felt love for him in that moment as the smile lit up his ebony eyes, eyes whose blackness seemed unfathomable. "The Dutchman was right, after all. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. I won't have a beachcomber on the island. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. He had need of all the inexhaustible energy of his character to support him through his toilsome walk over the wet grass, or along the slippery ploughed land.
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