Suzee stared at me in dismay.

“Oh, Treevor, you don’t want to stay here all day, do you?  It’s so hot, and there’s nothing to do, and, we shall miss the fair at Tampico to-night.  You promised we should see it”

I sighed.  It was true, I had said something about the fair, but I had forgotten it.  Suzee, however, never forgot things of this sort and she radically objected to any change being made in a programme.  She did not adapt herself quickly and easily to changed moods or circumstances.

Had Viola been with me, she would have said at once: 

“Would you like to stay here instead of going on?  Do let’s stay, then.  We can go down the river any time.”  And had I suggested there would be nothing for her to do, she would have answered: 

“Oh yes, I shall enjoy sitting watching you.”  Her interest had always lain in me, in her companion; to what we did she was indifferent; provided we were together and I was pleased, she was content.  It is just this difference in women that makes it so delightful to live with some, so impossible to live with others.  There are some, very few, of whom Viola was one, who delight in the society of the man they love, who drink in pleasure for themselves from his enjoyment; there are others, like Suzee, the majority, who are always at conflict with his wishes in little things, striving after some independent aim or project.

And they wonder why, after a time, their companionship grows irksome and they are deserted.  They also wonder why sometimes the other woman is adored and worshipped and grows into the inner life of a man till he cannot exist without her.

I felt then an extraordinary longing to be free from Suzee, to be alone.  Here was a picture, set ready to my hand.  A scene we had come upon accidentally and that, in its barbaric simplicity, was not easily to be found again.  It was strong, striking, original.  I saw it before my mind’s eyes on the canvas already, with “On the Tamesi, Mexico” written on the margin.

How could she ask me to lose it?  But I could not break my word, as she chose to keep me to it.

I said nothing, and, after a pause of keen disappointment, I walked slowly on again towards the boat.

The men were Indians, but they understood a little Spanish and I bargained with them to take us down to Tampico where we should arrive about seven the same evening, in time for the fruit-market and general fair held in the Plaza.

They were glad enough to take us as they were going down in any case with a load of bananas and our fares would pay them well for the extra space we took up in the boat.

They hauled the dug-out to the bank and jumped in, clearing it of old fruit baskets and arranging some rugs and mats under the shade of the wicker screen.  Behind that, to the stem, the boat was filled with the rich yellow of the bananas, the ruddy pink of the plantains, and mellow, translucent orange of the mangoes.  They lay there in great heaps, leaving only just space enough for the stem paddler to stand.